


OF BUMBLEBY

by b3lladonny



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, One Shot Collection, hella gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-02-16 12:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 21,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b3lladonny/pseuds/b3lladonny
Summary: This is just a bunch of my previous bumbleby works comprised into one space (haha amazing!) for my convenience and yours. Just a heads-up: These stories can range from angst to fluff and from 10 words to like...3,000 words. I don't have a set schedule for updating this collection, so it'll be rather sporadic- I apologize. All things set aside, I hope you enjoy reading these stories that I've written for this wonderful ship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: this is a collection of all the bumbleby works I have written...which is a lot. I hope you enjoy this a lot because I know I had fun writing them!
> 
> Alright, we're gonna start with a short, three sentence, Bodyguard AU.

ONE: BODYGUARD AU

The air smelled of gunpowder, of dust, and of blood; it lingered long after the reverberating sound of gunfire had faded and long after the body pressed against her crumpled to the floor with an agonized groan. Yang fell. Blake screamed.


	2. SOFT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because of their conflicting schedules, Blake and Yang have little time to spend with one another. However, whenever they do have enough time, they spend it to the best of their abilities.

Yang and Blake had very conflicting schedules- one required an early morning riser while the other demanded a night owl. This normally meant cuddle-time at nights were very limited for Yang and chilly mornings were ten times chillier for Blake (having a walking heater as your girlfriend was very beneficial). Still, with Yang’s early morning shifts at the local repair shop down the street and Blake’s semi-flexible midnight shifts at the 7-Eleven just downstairs, the couple persevered with intense Netflix marathoning, cuddles, and road trips out of town whenever they could. 

Of course, the two preferred binge-watching shows on Netflix and cuddling over everything else- which led to a mix of the two on this eventful, Friday evening. 

“So, what am I watching on this wonderful Friday night, with my wonderful girlfriend, and this beautiful, large, cheese pizza she ordered?” Blake asked as she slipped down the beat-up couch and onto a spot next to Yang, who hummed delightfully with a mouth full of pizza as her girlfriend sat down next to her. They gently bumped knees as they moved to get more comfortable in their spots on the couch. Blake watched intently as Yang examined what shows and movies they could watch on the TV- her girlfriend’s lips would occasionally twitch upwards when she came upon a show that she might want to watch and then downwards after passing over something they’d seen a thousand times (unless it were, in this case, Moana). 

Blake felt a smile come to her face as Yang selected the movie and continued to smile for some unknown reason as she watched Yang lean forward to set the remote onto the coffee table. Before she drew back, Yang grabbed another slice of pizza for Blake and handed the it to her- all the while she took another bite from her own slice. 

“I was feelin’ a bit Moana-y on this fine, Friday night,” came Yang’s muffled response as she chewed her food. 

The blonde leaned back into the couch, raised her slice of pizza, and grinned at Blake- who in response rolled her eyes, raised her own slice, tapped it against Yang’s half-eaten one, and said, “Cheers.” 

Yang laughed- a sound that brought at least a couple hundred butterflies to Blake’s stomach and a red to her face; she didn’t hesitate to curl up between Yang’s arms when the blonde opened them up and said invitingly, “C’mere so I can kiss you.” 

And kiss her she did. 

They watched the rest of the movie with Yang’s arms around Blake and Blake comfortably curled up with her back against Yang’s stomach, purring. Halfway through the movie, Yang’s breathing had deepened and slowed and Blake realized with a heavy sigh that her girlfriend had drifted off to sleep. Blake slowly slipped from Yang’s arms and slid off of the couch before making her way to the closet down the hall. 

The Faunus grabbed a light blanket, made her way back to the couch, and tucked Yang under it. Smiling, Blake leaned over the couch and placed a kiss atop her girlfriend’s forehead before quietly slinking to their bedroom. Not long afterwards, Blake emerged from her bedroom in her 7-Eleven uniform and padded to the door. She paused in the doorway. Blake looked back to Yang’s sleeping figure before she sighed, smiled, and left their apartment for the journey downstairs. 

Conflicting schedules really suck.


	3. SUNDAY NIGHTS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WIth a gloom of rain settling into Vale, Blake and yang decide, after shared boredom, to do something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'm posting all of the fluff and stuff first...huh?

The tranquil silence that had settled onto the grey town- that had followed the thick mist and rain- was broken by the distant, low purring of thunder; whispers of cold breezes; muted laughter in a small, fourth story, apartment room on 5th street next to a normally crowded intersection, still crowded cafe, and a moderately crowded bookstore. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, and the balcony door was vigilantly protected by a small mass of black and white, sleeping fur whose ears would occasionally perk up at the light sound of laughter that leaked through the threshold gate he protected with his sleepy, little body- like Cerberus, just without the two other heads, and much, much smaller. 

As thunder drew closer with another distant rumble, the balcony door opened and warm, yellow light spilled out onto the balcony floor, woke the small guardian, and welcomed him inside. A quick whistle from his right caught his attention more than the closing of the balcony door and he turned briskly, barked, and charged forward into the open arms of a friendly figure wrapped warmly in yellow blanket before attacking with little kisses across her face.

“I can’t believe the dog stole my girlfriend.” 

Sweet, honey laughter sounded from the blanketed figure and a head of golden mane popped out from under the sheet after wiping the dog’s slobber off her face with the back of her hand. The woman regarded her partner with those dazzling, lilac eyes before kissing their small dog on the forehead and setting him onto the ground. The corgi shot off towards the other woman who had knelt onto the ground and danced around her with elated barks and attempted kisses. Those amber eyes calmed the little dog down after he bounced around for a few moment; he quickly skittered off into the kitchen after she’d snuck a few quick rubs behind his ear. 

Blake watched as the dog skidded across the marble floor and slipped wildly into the kitchen with a grin before she stood to her feet and took a seat on the black couch next to her blanketed girlfriend; slipped off her slippers, reclaimed the book Yang dangled far above her head with a soft kiss, and listened intently to the faraway thunder that drew ever-so-closer, ever-so-slowly to this little, comfortable silence she treasured with her life. The pitter-pattering of rain resumed outside the window after a previous hour’s of rest and Blake sighed happily, taking in this ambiance of comfort and quiet and warmth; rested her head on Yang’s lap. 

Yang ran a hand gently through Blake’s black hair unconsciously as she watched channel after channel switch across the TV screen. News, news, news, National Geographic, news, news- the cycle of boredom; semi-boredom continued like that for a long while- every other frustrated click of the remote would be accompanied by the sound of a page turning in Blake’s book. Yang finally sighed in defeat and switched the TV off; set the remote onto the couch to her left and gazed down at Blake who stared intently at her open book- those amber eyes followed carefully after every word. The corners of Yang’s lips curved upwards into a smile. 

“Nothing good to watch?” Blake asked, peering over the top of her book at Yang, who raised her arms into a stretch in sync with another rumbling purr of thunder. 

“Unfortunately: nada. Sunday nights are the worst, there’s nothing ever really on,” Yang finally said, lowering her arms down again. Blake shifted before sitting up, back against Yang’s arm, head inclined and resting on her girlfriend’s shoulders. 

“Aren’t there cartoons on?” Blake asked again as she continue reading that story of her’s. “It might..” Blake looked up from her for a second and squinted her eyes at the clock mounted against the citrine wall to her left, took the time, and continued, lowering her gaze back to her book, “It might be ten on a Sunday night, but I’m pretty sure Samurai Jack or something like that is on.” 

The rain splattering against the window outside grew louder, as did the wind and Yang sunk further into the sofa. “Dang, and now that the rain’s starting up again, we can’t go to Tucson’s downstairs or that cafe,” she muttered, turning to read what Blake was reading. 

“Late night date night?” Blake asked, setting her book down after memorizing the last page she was on. “That doesn’t sound too bad actually.” Blake said as she sat up straighter and ran a hand through her hair. “The rain part sucks, but I think we can avoid the majority of it.” 

Yang grinned, crossing her arms. “So, a cream cheese, salmon bagel with green tea and a small bowl of cheddar soup?” She recited with a raised brow, squinted eyes. Blake chuckled, resting her head onto Yang’s shoulder, nodding.

“With the weather outside, I’m guessing...you probably want a bread bowl and jasmine tea or hot chocolate,” Blake said, raising her eyes up to Yang’s who gazed down warmly in return. “Or water- to quench your thirst,” she joked. 

“I love you,” Yang quickly whispered before she placed a soft kiss atop Blake’s forehead. The raven-haired woman scrunched her brows together out of surprise before a smile quickly overtook her and she made a move to stand up, brought her partner up with her, and draped her arms across Yang’s neck. Yang rested her hands on Blake’s waist and pulled her closer until Blake’s forehead met her lips. Blake raised her head slowly; broke into a smile that Yang returned only before she’d leaned downwards for a slow kiss which lingered long after they’d pulled away. 

“So, late night date night?” Yang asked again, quietly, smiling. 

~

They’d gotten dressed as quickly as possible, fearing that the world outside would soon grow too wet to navigate. Yang had stumbled out from the closet with a yellow sweater; ripped shorts and had quickly went to the kitchen to refill Zwei’s water and food bowl as they went out for the night where Blake took a minute longer than Yang and zipped out of their shared room with black jeans and a striped, long-sleeved shirt, a black bag at her side. 

They shared a kiss at the door, both said goodbye to Zwei (Yang gave him the order to protect their home to the best of his ability- he accepted with a powerful bark), and then left for the stairs, hand in hand; umbrella at the ready. It was cold and dark outside- even under the glow of the street light- fortunately, they only had to dash quickly next door under a covered bit of sidewalk to the cafe- which was still open and offered refuge from the incoming storm. 

They seated themselves in a booth near the corner of the cafe after ordering their food- for Yang: a bread bowl and water with two straws with a wedge of lemon floating about at the bottom of the cup, for Blake: a salmon, cream cheese bagel and a small bowl and an extra spoon. They talked comfortably, breathed in the scent of bakery and coffee, and played a few rounds of chopstick (Blake won all rounds) before their food arrived. 

With the sound of rain, loud chatter, and the muted cafe music that played in the background, they finished their near midnight snack, talked about Ruby’s birthday- which was coming up soon; flirted relentlessly, semi-jokingly; decided that maybe getting Ruby a bushel of weapons was NOT the best idea; realized that the rain outside was now truly too hard to navigate and that the cafe was closing. Yang left a hefty tip and thanked their waitress before the two of them left the cafe and dashed wildly back to their apartment under the covered sidewalk. 

Through some mythical force, they returned to their homely apartment room almost completely dry with only beads of water in their hair; the smell of rain on their clothes; their cheeks and ears red from the stinging wind. Zwei has fallen asleep on his cushion in the kitchen when they entered and Yang proudly thanked him for his work and left a milk-bone in his food bowl before she and Blake both hurried back to their room to get changed into comfortable pajamas and got ready for bed. 

Such process was so quick they found themselves in bed before midnight- holding each other tightly as the background of pitter-pattering rain against the window plane; wind against the trees outside the apartment lulled them both to sleep only after they’d both muttered goodnights and shared kisses…


	4. SUNRISE, SUNSET

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HIKING!!!NATURE!!TREES!!

The afternoon sun was partially obscured behind the large Magnolia tree; the light that wasn’t blocked filtered gently through the dark leaves and sprouting blossoms. The rays danced when they reached the ground in vague, checkered patterns, startled by a soft breeze. It was the kind of springtime with crisp, refreshing air and warm sunlight- the kind of springtime where the temperature was balanced perfectly between the hot and the cold, where not too many clouds cluttered the sky, and where taking naps beneath a large, fanning, Magnolia tree was favored greatly by those wishing for spiritual renewal and an escape from reality. 

So beneath the white petals, under the mottled patterns of light, and tucked snugly between the exposed roots of the Magnolia, lay two half-awake figures, watching the blue sky and the passing clouds. 

They held each other close: one had their arm intertwined with the other; one’s head rested on the other’s shoulder. They counted the clouds that appeared aimlessly overhead like animals- one appeared as an unfinished cat with a missing tail, the other as a giant, snake-like creature with a big, fluffy mane. What a big world, the one with the amber eyes mused groggily with a yawn. How are we ever going to explore all of it? 

The one with the energetic grin rested her forehead on the other’s in response and spoke softly, her voice thick and sweet like honey. It’s alright. We can take it slow- world’s not going to go anywhere anyway. 

The one with the amber eyes nodded lazily in response after a moment, absorbed the warmth of her partner with a thoughtful sigh, and shifted slightly so that her lips met her partner’s in a loving kind of way. They remained like such- somehow closer together than when they started; found a new interest in each other’s eyes. They counted the times light danced off of amber and lilac hues- ten and twelve respectively- before they returned their gazes to the vast horizon above them. 

They’d been there since early morning- left the comfort of their little, apartment home at around midnight with moderately heavy hiking bags and a shared kiss; drove from the little, lit up city they called home to the great wilderness surrounding it at around dawn, and found themselves hiking around in the dark up a small cliffside dotted with large Magnolia trees that most likely shouldn’t have been growing there- flashlight in hand, fingers intertwined, adventure in mind. They reached the top of the hillside when the sun had just barely rose out of the dark horizon and when the natural world around them was just beginning to wake. 

From the edge of that cliffside they held each other close, grinning friendly, dimpled grins at the rising sun and greeted her forth with joyous whoops at their small feat of hiking the moderately tall cliffside with their moderately heavy hiking bags. Then the color returned to the previously dark world; green became the leaves and the grass, blues and purples became the sky- the sun rose higher and higher, the world became brighter, and they watched it all, tucked against each other; against the trunk of a Magnolia tree. 

We should leave soon. One suggested as she shifted from her partner’s arms, waking the other from an accidental slumber. Before the both of us fall asleep. 

You’re just worried a bear with get to the car. The other mused with a yawn and a quick fix of her tousled, blonde hair. The amber-eyed woman rolled her eyes and muttered a sarcastic response before she stood for the first time in hours, relished the feel of blood rushing to her feet, and sighed- now awake. Her partner stood with the assistance of the tree trunk behind her and with another yawn, she gathered her bag- shouldered it with a rub of her eyes. Still awake. She joked with a grin.

I’ll drive us next, I guess. Where should we go? I’m starving. The blonde woman asked, taking her lover’s hand in her own after she’d hoisted the other hiking bag carefully onto her back. They started slowly down the cliffside, avoided little ruts, and stones, and uprooted roots. They lingered around a little spring full of minnows- attempted to catch one- before being distracted by a small slope of flowers they neglected to catch in the middle of the night. On that slope, under the cool shade, they decided to have a brunch of bread with different jellies and wove pretty yellow and purple flowers into flower crowns.

Finally, with the sun hanging just above the far horizon once more, they reached the bottom where they had parked their little, pale yellow car in the shade of a large group of little trees- where the dappled and warm evening light grazed against the sides of the vehicle. 

The wilderness was fully awake by this time, with birds singing and insects following along. Occasionally, the rest of the world would softly decrescendo into silence as a single bird or bug sang its solo, and then quickly crescendo back to its normal symphonic noise. The car engine purred loudly awake, a low growl in the silence of the natural world, and the pair apologized for the loud, rudeness of the machine before they pulled onto the road and sped away, thanking the cliffside for a silent night and a quick day.

The original natural silence was replaced by the blaring of some form of rock music, and the previous tranquility of the natural world was replaced with a much more familiar, compact, and homely feel that was somehow emitted by the off-putting, alternating, rock music and classical pieces, off-note karaoke singalongs, and the overall comfort of two people in love. 

So they sped off along the road, no destination in mind for adventure was out there, somewhere in that setting sun.


	5. HAPPY, HAPPY, BIRTHDAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Blake's birthday!

She woke up that morning with her head buried far into her lover’s warmth; where sweet locks of yellows and black curls were tangled together; with the relaxing incense of lavender on her nose. She woke to sunlight filtering from the half-open drapes and to the sound of city life outside the apartment window. Blake woke to a warm tension behind her ears and a churning of her stomach. But, still half-awake, she ignored the buzzing; the feeling in her gut, and instead shifted in the warm embrace Yang held her in. She tucked a stray lock of golden hair from the blonde’s face before kissing her freckles, then gently her lips. 

When Blake pulled back, Yang shifted slightly, raised her arms, and stretched as she yawned. She dropped her arm down again, draped it across Blake’s torso; nuzzled her face into the nook of her lover’s neck, and groggily kissed her shoulder as she went. Yang settled into another stretch, and Blake took this chance to slip from Yang’s hold and sat upright on their bed, surrounded by the tousled, black and yellow, comforter. They remained in a comfortable, morning silence for a few moments more before finally, Yang rolled to her stomach and rested her head on Blake’s lap. 

“Happy birthday Blakey,” came Yang’s muffled, morning greeting. Blake lowered her head to that golden mane and pressed another kiss onto the top of Yang’s head and absentmindedly ran a hand through her yellow locks. In response, Yang rolled over again and stared upwards at Blake with those pretty, lavender eyes. Blake smiled gently and placed yet another kiss on top of Yang’s forehead after she’d brushed away her bangs. Yang’s nose crinkled and she said, after intercepting the kiss, “Someone’s in a good mood today. Normally I don’t get any kisses until I’ve made you tea.” 

Blake rolled her eyes in response and stretched. “That’s not inherently true,” she answered with a wave of dismissal. “I give you at least one kiss before you even wake up and then two before we’re out of bed.” Yang raised a hand; tucked a lock of Blake’s black hair behind her ear, and grinned. Blake scoffed and followed Yang’s hand, took it gently, and locked her fingers with Yang’s. “I’m in a good mood.” 

“Obviously,” Yang chirped as she shifted to sit next to Blake. A buzzing sounded from the bedside table and Yang glanced over her shoulder at her phone for just a moment before turning back to look at Blake. They met eyes for a moment, Yang made a horribly attractive face, and then they were back down on the bed again. 

~

It took another half hour for the either of them to budge from their spot in their bed, limbs tangled together, breath heavy and warm. Yang whispered about places to go and something to do later on that night, so after careful coaxing and bribing kisses, they left their apartment. In the cool, April morning, Blake and Yang progressed down the busy sidewalk next to an even busier intersection, their arms interlocked; a skip in their steps. 

“Guess where I’m taking you,” Yang said in a singsong voice. Blake eyed her partner- dressed in a comfortable, white knit-sweater, pale blue, ripped jeans, white converse, and a simple, white beanie that somehow contained that golden mane, and smiled in response before raising a brow, pondering. They turned at the corner of the street and breathed in the scent of spring, of bakery, and of aromas. Yang quickly tapped the screen of her phone before tucking it into her back pocket. 

“Specifically? Or just in general? Because specifically: I have no idea. In general: probably breakfast, right?” She asked as they came to a stop at a crosswalk. Yang made a big notion with her arms for Blake to continue and smiled in response as she stepped back onto the street with a steady beat. Those lilac eyes scarcely left Blake as they walked; they stared at her black, skinny jeans, purple-black flannel, boots, and those beautiful, amber eyes. Yang stepped a little closer to her partner. 

“Breakfast huh. Are we going to Sleepy’s?” Blake asked, to which Yang laughed in response and bobbed her head up and down as they continued down the sidewalk. 

“Rats. You figured it out. Jeez, my girlfriend’s just too damn smart!” 

So they walked, and walked, and walked just a bit more before stopping in front of the little diner tucked in a cozy, little corner of the cozy, little town. Already, the diner had opened- in the window the neon “open sign” sign pulsed bright blue and red as the couple started for the door, hand in hand; pulsed even brighter in warm welcome as Yang rested a hand on the doorknob and pulled the door open for Blake to pass through under the happy chime of a bell. 

They were greeted by the friendly, familiar face of Mrs. Sleepy- the co-owner of the small diner alongside her husband. The Sleepy’s were well acquainted with Yang, as her father had helped them build this little business- they were old family friends with a special place in their hearts for pancakes and waffles. Mrs. Sleepy greeted Blake and Yang with a happy smile and waved the two of them to follow her as she pulled two menus from a small box at the cash register. “Follow me, dearies. Got yer message earlier, Yang. I have a table set up ‘n everythin’.” The old woman walked with a happy limp that could’ve been mistaken as a little spring in her step; she came to a hobbling stop at a corner booth and laid down the menus and adjusted one of the napkins folded onto one of the plates. They took a few seconds to adjust in their seats, and while Blake admired a new sunflower painting over their heads, Mrs. Sleepy asked, “Any drinks, ladies?” 

“Ooh,” Yang muttered as she flipped open her menu to look at the list of drinks she had already memorized since the first day they came to eat here. She trailed her finger along as she read the choices and glanced up at Blake as her partner scanned their choices carefully. They met eyes again, and without missing a beat, Yang said- almost as if she’d read Blake’s mind- “A green tea for the lady and a jasmine for myself.” Mrs. Sleepy clicked her tongue and scribbled furiously down onto a notepad she had drawn from her back pocket and closed it momentarily afterwards, smiling. 

“Sure thing, sugar. I’ll get your drinks and give you more time to order. We have a special today- blueberry danish pancakes- my husband’s been wanting to try out the recipe for months and we finally found time to get the ingredients- so who knows? Maybe y’all will be the first to try it for a price o’ nothin’.” She gave the couple a wink before hobbling away, leaving them to their pondering and deciding. 

Yang sat back into the booth and set down the menu after a moment of careful choosing and she watched their hostess brew their tea in the corner before watching Blake with a smile. “So...Got any idea whatcha want to order?” She asked, drumming her hands lightly on the table. Blake looked up from her menu and nodded before folding the menu and placing it down on top of Yang’s. She reached forward and gently graded her partner’s drumming hands.

“Yup,” She said with a smile. Mrs. Sleepy hobbled back over to the corner booth and set two teacups down onto the table and filled one with steamy, green tea and the other with warm, jasmine. She mocked a deep bow before pulling the notepad from her back pocket again.

“So then ladies, what’s it gonna be?” 

~

They finished breakfast and were whisked away by the time; caught by the traffic, they took to the sidewalks again, walking hand in hand around the hotspots of town. For a late lunch, they stopped in a cafe and later went to a mall for an hour, or two, or three for shopping. Yang lingered closely to the jewelry stores while Blake was occupied by the bookstores and clothing outlets. They tried on outfits, shared laughs and a milkshake after their shopping spree, and with the sun hanging low in the sky, the left the mall and prepared for the trek back to their apartment. 

It took a short twenty minutes to walk back from the mall to their comfortable apartment home, tucked carefully under three fanning trees. In the warm, honey-glow of the setting sun that shone through the window behind them, Yang fished the apartment key from her back pocket, unlocked their door, and stepped into the dark room, juggling bags and her keys. Blake peered into the dark space over her lover’s shoulder, and with a brow raised asked, “We had a light on, right?” 

Yang hummed in agreement before groping around the walls for the light switch at the door. “Where are you- you little-“ something pulled the blonde into the house and Blake lept back in surprise before she surged forward, shouldering through the door- alert. The light flashed on and a loud booming followed shortly after, as well as the rapid sound of poppers popping and a party blower kazooing. Blake cracked open an eye in the abrupt brightness; her mouth fell and a smile grew on her face.

“Happy birthday Blake!” The large group yelled, wielding cheer and a cake. Blake’s shoulders dropped and she let out a sigh of relief before meeting the eyes of Yang, who sprawled out across the floor in the least attractive way possible. Her lover winked before the group of friends rushed forward to engulf Blake in a tight hug. 

“Ohmygosh! Happy happy birthday, Blake!” Nora exclaimed as she pulled away from a spine-crushing hug with a bright, caffeine-boosted grin. “By the way have you tried the cake yet? It's delicious! Ren made it and-“ in an attempt to calm his wife down, Ren set a hand on her shoulder and carefully showed her to the couch after he greeted Blake with a calm smile and a simple nod. Blake returned the silent greeting with a wave before she was pulled into the arms of Ruby. 

“Biggest birthday wishes, Blake!” Ruby cried with a bright smile as she picked Blake up in an excited hug. “I really hope you like my gift I wasn’t really sure on what to get you so Weiss helped me out and- well- haha!” Ruby motioned to a big box wrapped in rose-petaled wrapping paper at the bottom of a small stack of presents. Blake looked to the presents and laughed, shaking her head.

“I wonder what it’s going to be,” She said as Ruby let her down from the hug. “I’m quite curious, actually- what in the world could you have in that box-“ Ruby directed Blake to Weiss before she could finish her question and the calmer woman drew Blake into her arms for a warm hug, saving ruby from the question.

Greetings were exchanged for roughly twenty minutes- Weiss and Blake caught up on politics and old hobbies; Ruby and Blake had a long conversation about this character from this show and that character from another show, Sun asked Blake about the plants in the apartment, how he was doing, and about the book she was writing;, as for Nora...well, she ate the rest of the cake to Ren’s dismay. There was laughter- so much of it, followed after every horrible pun and story; jokes that Blake had heard thousands of times, and questions Ruby asked when anything remotely Adult was mentioned. 

It was warm in that golden-lit apartment. 

“Present time!” Yang exclaimed as the last story was passed around and the last slice of the backup cake, inhaled. With a wave of her hands, the golden haired woman gathered everyone to the living room where she’d moved the presents. As Blake took a seat, Yang handed her the first of the presents: a black bag with a little cat sticker pasted on top of it. 

Blake accepted the little bag with an ‘aww’ and proceeded to open it. Out of the bag, she drew out a small, cat-shaped mug. Sun raised his hand and grinned like the stars. “That’s my gift, Blakey. I made the bag and the cup. I know you like cats and all, so I thought I’d make something, you know? From the heart and, I admit, adorable.” 

“You made this?” Blake asked, her eyes wide. She turned the mug in her hand and smiled warmly when Sun nodded. “Thank you so much, Sun.” She stood to give him a hug which he returned with a laugh. And something along the lines of “Ah come on, Blake! I’m not the mindless blonde idiot you think I am!” To which she rolled her eyes to. As she sat down again, Yang brought forward another gift and the pattern continued forth there.

The second gift Blake opened was a gift from Ren- a book on gardening wrapped neatly in a dark purple sheet of wallpaper, and the third was a tea set from Nora- which was not only a surprising gift but also an adorable one. Next was Ruby and Weiss’ gift, which was revealed to be at least thirteen smaller boxes hidden in the large box, and in the smallest box, was a necklace that...probably cost more than the entire apartment complex. 

With the party beginning to ease to a close, Yang had yet to present her present, which confused Blake because for her past birthdays, Yang was always the first person to gift her whatever she had bought. One year it was chocolates, another year it was far too many books, and then there was a year where Blake had decided they should travel- so they did.

But Blake didn’t question it.

“So, you ready for your present?” Yang asked, as she moved wrapping paper scraps out of the way. She raised those lavender eyes up to her lover and grinned a twinkling grin. Blake laughed a little before she knelt to the ground to pick up bits and pieces of paper. 

“Today was the biggest present you could have ever given me, Yang,” Blake said, tucking a lock of black behind her ear; Yang shifted a little to move something over while Blake continued collecting the scraps of purple and black and reds in her hands. “I honestly couldn’t have wished for anything else, Yang, but if you have another present I’ll gladly accept it.” 

Yang chuckled. “I mean, I’d hope you’d accept it.” 

Blake raised a brow as silence settled onto the room. “Of course I’d accept it what are do you-“ she turned on her knees to face her lover and dropped the scraps of wrapping paper onto the floor, her eyes wide. 

Yang kneeled in front of her, a grin on her face, a twinkle her eyes; love in her heart, her cheeks, her soul. The blonde cleared her throat and spoke, quietly, under the beaming faces of Ren, of Nora; Ruby, Weiss, and Sun, “Blake, my star, moon, and and night. Everyday this past 4 years that’ve spent with you has been an adventure I never want to stop.” Blake’s eyes grew wide as Yang pulled, from her back pocket a small, felted box. “You make me feel like we’re pirates sailing the sea, explorers exploring old and smelly ancient temples, and knights of King Arthur’s round table.” 

She unclasped the box and raised it, showcasing a simple, diamond ring nestled in a black cushion. Blake didn’t feel her hands snap to her mouth as she admired the ring and then Yang’s lavender eyes. 

“I...No- I don’t want this adventure to end. I’d be a fairy, a princess, prince, a knight; a dragon, a beast- anything if it meant staying by your side as long as I humanly can-“ Yang’s smile never faltered and her eyes never left the amber of Blake’s. “-So with this ring, I ask if you, Blake Belladonna, will marry me and keep this adventure forever and onwards?” 

 

“Is that even a question you need to ask?” Blake whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. Yang quickly stood- concerned- and was almost taken to the ground by Blake as she rushed forward and enveloped her into a tight, loving hug. “Yes, I will marry you, Yang- light of my eyes, my heart, my life.” Yang’s eyes widened as did her grin and they laughed in each other’s arms, kissed each other’s sweet tears away, and stood in the warmth of that room, under the sound of cheering and awwing and the one distant, dramatic “bleg!” Ruby yelled as the couple kissed; held each other close. 

What a birthday…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my newer pieces for a friend's birthday- I really liked how this one turned out.


	6. YIN AND YANG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a stark difference between them, but also so much that's overlooked.

Blake was the darkness, Yang was the light- on the surface there was no denying that.

The shadows seemed to manifest wherever Blake stepped. They clung to her- whispering, black whorls of nothingness and everything- little, cackling phantoms of her mind that sought to tear her down. They dwelled in the white noise and dark silence; fed off of her semblance; fed off of her fear, growing ever-so-slightly in size, but much heavier in weight. Of course, she tried stopping it- the darkness ripping through her heart, tainting her soul, her body, her mind. She tried the happy thoughts, the fake smiles- a forced romance, but it continued to ravage under the skin, bubbling in her blood- untamable. She feared herself and that darkness crawling within her in, growling. It drove her in circles, running from this, running from that- fleeing from one silence to another. However, the shadows persisted and Blake wilted, restless. The weight of the torment gathered on her shoulders; the white noise deafened her and she sunk to her knees, cradling her arms; craving silence.

Wherever Yang walked, sunlight filtered through leaves and parted clouds; the rooms she entered lit up and eventually even warmed. She emitted this comfortable warmth with her smiles; her voice dripped thickly like honey- sweet. There never seemed to be a time where there wasn’t a smile or a knowing smirk or some sort of goofy grin plastered across her face. She radiated this brightness that sent shadows scurrying away and laughed these laughs that would act like demon repellent- she was such a joyous bundle of eternal fire, burning at the fingertips. She was the light- warm; bright- a damn good source of happiness and horrible, horrible jokes. She was Yang Xiao Long, the bright, sunshiny girl who wanted nothing more than to burn brighter than everything and anything else. 

But then something happened.

Yang Xiao Long was not all happiness, warmth, and cheer, and Blake Belladonna was certainly not made of only darkness and shadows. 

There trapped within the body of an eternal flame was a little girl who grew up too quickly, head held high, chest puffed out, dark circles under her eyes. She walked aimlessly in circles, searching for this, searching for that- haunted by those scathing, red eyes and a responsibility that was not meant for her. That little girl shouldered her way through deaths and abandonment, a wry smile on her face, chin leveled, the faintest trace of tears in her eyes; she continued still, until she couldn’t anymore. 

Yang Xiao Long fell to her knees, defeated.

The other had a sense loyalty that couldn’t be broken, a sense of justice like none other- led astray at first, but it quickly found its footing. She shouldered the world, burdened by prejudices, and learned quickly at a young age that the world was hell, the people were hell, and someone had to fix it. So she decided, taking arms, that that someone may as well have been her, and that she might as well die trying to make the unforgiving world a more tolerant place for others like her- a place where love could just be love, and a place where war was just a bad dream.

Blake Belladonna smiled at the world; glared unflinchingly back at it.

Blake stumbled on, clutched friendships and family close- Lover even closer; her head dipped in a secretive kind of way, as if she were still hiding- and Yang, with a roar, ripped from the world, eyes blazing; fire burning in her belly; smoke drifting from her ears.

Blake was the darkness, Yang was the light- on the surface there was no denying that. But perhaps if you looked deeper- past the collecting shadows, amber eyes; past the blinding brightness, lilac eyes- you’d find a little bit of darkness corroding that fire, and a little bit of white purity seeping through blackened cracks.


	7. GARDEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Afternoon tea with the girlfriends.

It sounded of mocking birds, of soft tree leaves brushing ever-so-slightly against each other and of spring time; there was this sweetness in the air and a comfortable warm-cold feel under the shade provided by a generous, weeping willow tree. The sun shone brightly through the willow leaves as they danced peacefully along with a friendly, soft breeze. The grass was soft to the touch- sweet smelling like everything in this Eden. Weigela flowers grew from dark green shrubs, giving the flower garden a little touch of white; along the intricately carved stone pavements, shrubs of French Lilacs grew every other half yard, followed by an old, victorian-style lamp posts that had vines snaking up around them.  
The stone walkway led up to a small, white pavilion with thin railings- surrounded by a backdrop of ethereal green and soft, pastel colors. A white bistro table and two white chairs sat in the center of the pavilion, a soft stretch of sunlight grazed the tea table- warm and welcoming. A single rose sat in a thin vase atop the table, dew sliding from its petals.

Two figures stepped along the stone pavement leading into the Eden, one clothed in a white suit, dress pants, and shoes; the other in a dark purple, slim-fitted dress, silver heels, completed with a black bow. They walked closely together, arms intertwined, staring into each other’s eyes, smiling. The woman clad in the white suit looked up from her lover’s gaze, greeted a suited gentleman standing before the garden gates. “Are you Ms. Xiao Long?” The man asked, flipping through a small notepad. Yang dipped her head in response.

“Yes sir.”

The man’s grey mustache twitched in amusement as his gaze slid between Yang and the woman on her arm. “Ms. Belladonna, then, I assume?” Blake nodded as well. The man paused and slowly reread a page of the notebook before scribbling furiously onto the small notebook before pocketing in his vest. He rested a hand over his heart and lowered into a deep bow. He stood upright after five pauses; motioning to the garden gates as they opened. “After you, miladies,” He said, offering the women a smile.

Yang thanked him and returned once more to stare lovingly into the other woman’s eyes. With a little skip in her step, she brought Blake forward along the carved walkway, her eyes never leaving Blake’s as they walked forward. Even while her lover was more focused on the garden around them- her eyes widening with every lilac and Weigela shrub they passed- Yang continued watching, lovestruck. They came to a stop before the pavilion, Blake miffed, her mouth slightly agape. Yang untangled their arms and with a loving gesture, motioned for Blake to continue up the pavilion steps to the tea table.

Blake did, drawing her dress up a little, cautious. Yang slowly followed a step behind her, hands to her side- fiddling with her right pocket. Blake stood before the table, admiring the rose, her hands folded in front of her. Yang slowed to a stop besides her lover, staring down sentimentally at the rose. The mockingbirds sang their song and the wind chimes that hung from the willow trees followed suit. Blake turned after a soft moment of awed silence and raised her hands, draping them around Yang’s neck. Her amber eyes held this magical glint that made Yang’s heart skip a beat. The blonde woman lowered her hands to her lover’s hips.

They swayed along with nature’s orchestra for a few minutes before the duet of mockingbirds ended, sealing their dance with a lingering kiss. Then, and only then, did they pull away, smiling quietly to one another, lights in their eyes. Yang stepped to the chairs and pulled the one of the left out, motioning Blake forward with a silly wriggle of her brows. Blake shook her head, before smoothing out her dress and sitting down. Yang gently pushed the chair in and place a kiss at the top of Blake’s head before moving to take her own seat.

They sat in a comfortable silence for another few heartbeats, gazing unconsciously into each other’s eyes. “So,” Yang began, setting her hands onto the table.  
“So,” Blake repeated amused. Yang’s lip quirked to the side and she tilted her head a little.

“How is it?” She asked, swiveling her eyes at their surroundings, taking in the greens, reds, pinks, and purples with a heavy, satisfied sigh. Blake followed Yang’s eyes to the flower garden around them and raised a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“It’s beautiful here,” Blake responded, raising her eyes. Yang’s smile somehow widened still and she quietly thought, admiring the way the sunlight shone in Blake’s amber eyes, ‘Not as beautiful as you.’

The gentleman returned, a tea tray in his hands. He watched the two women, eyes soft, and placed two tea cups, an optional sugar jar, and a pot of Jasmine tea onto the table. He carefully poured two cups of the tea and with a humble bow, said softly, “Enjoy.” Both Blake and Yang nodded thankfully in response, thanking him as he retreated to a small shop on the other side of the cafe.

“How did you ever find this place?” Blake questioned, bringing her cup to her lips. She took a cautious sip before placing the teacup down onto its saucer. Yang followed suit, sipping carefully She held the teacup between her hands.

“Ruby told me about this place,” Yang answered, smiling. “And I know you like tea, so I booked an appointment here,” she paused, looking into the teacup. “This is really good tea!” Blake nodded as she took her second drink. Yang looked around the flower garden again, a sentimental look on her face; Blake watched, placing the cup back down silently. Yang lowered her gaze to Blake again before leaning forward. “So, big six years, huh?” She asked, knowing. Blake couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Six years of being your girlfriend have been pretty hectic,” Blake stated, leaning forward as well, setting her hands gently onto the table. Yang slowly took her lover’s hands between her own and shook her head, chuckling. “Don’t give me excuses now, Yang,” Blake said, faking a frown. Yang rubbed her thumb softly over the back of Blake’s hand.  
“Okay- maybe a little hectic…” Blake raised a brow; their eyes met again and a smile spread across both of their faces. “But, all hecticness aside,” Yang started, raising her hand to Blake’s face. Her fingers caressed Blake’s face softly. “Happy sixth anniversary, Blakey.” Blake raised her own hand and placed it on top of Yang’s.

“Six years and you still call me Blakey,” she muttered, shaking her head. She turned a little, placing a kiss softly onto Yang’s palm. The blonde blushed in response and drew back hesitantly when Blake leaned back into her seat, absorbing the warm, springtime air. Yang eyed her palm for a moment, shook herself out of her stupor, and cleared her throat.  
“Hey, let’s...play a game- a question game,” She said, lowering her right hand to her right pocket. Blake’s brows scrunched together in a look of confusion.

“I feel like at this point we could answer any question about each other,” She leaned forward in interest, resting her head on her hands. Yang smiled in response and raised a challenging brow.

“Alright, then I’ll start us off- you can only answer with a ‘yes’ or with a ‘no’-” She cleared her throat dramatically before standing from her seat (dramatically). She started to pace around the tea table, slowly, always watching her lover with a softened gaze. Blake’s eyes followed after Yang and simply said alright.

“Do I love you?” Yang asked, smiling.

Blake chuckled, confused. “Yes? I hope?” Yang nodded enthusiastically, giving her a thumbs up as she walked.

“Do you...Blakey Belladonna, my favorite girlfriend, like tuna?”

Blake rolled her eyes, her lips curved into an upward smile and she decided with a nod to play along with whatever crazy shenanigan Yang had planned. “Yes.”

“Do you, Blake Belladonna, like lil ol’ me?” Yang asked again, wiggling her eyebrows.

A laugh caught in Blake’s throat and she snorted; with a deep nod she answered, “Yes.”

Yang came to a stop in front of Blake and said with a sudden shaky breath, “Here’s the last question.” She paused for a moment, before raising her eyes to something far behind Blake. “Oh wow!” This caused Blake to swivel her head around- she stared at the same flower garden as she did earlier.

“What?” She asked, turning around to look at Yang.

Her hands snapped to her mouth before she could even process what had happened.

“This is...the last question,” Yang stated, flashing Blake a nervous Yang-grin. From one knee on the ground, Yang asked after a deep inhale, her hand in her right pocket, “Will you, Blake Belladonna, marry me?”

Blake eyed the ring Yang held up to her with widened eyes. She stared in shock, her mouth fully open. The mockingbirds stopped their song. A breeze brushed through the pavilion, stirring the rose from the vase, the willow trees around them, and Blake’s dark hair. Yang held the fing still, gazing hopefully upwards at the woman of her dreams, smiling. Finally, after a few moments, Blake fully processed what Yang had said and through teary eyes, choked on her words. 

She answered.

“Yes.”


	8. OF BEASTS AND DRAGONS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where Blake and Yang are leaders of rivaling countries in a time of war. Yang is looking for allies and Blake can't stomach the thought of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out for anything else under this title in the future. ;)

“You...are the Queen of Beasts?” 

“Yes? I thought that was rather obvious- why would you think I was not?”

“You just don’t- I don’t know- you just don’t...look beastly enough?”

“...So I’m guessing you’re the Dragon Queen then?” 

“Wait what?! How’d you know?”

“Only the Dragon Queen would have the audacity to say that.”

Yang stepped back slightly and cocked her head to the side animatedly- not quite expecting that answer. She opened her mouth, formed a mental retort, and decided with a deep frown that it just wasn’t worth it. Instead, after a few moments of careful pondering, she lowered into a deep bow, mindful of the golden robes she wore, displaying her stump of a right arm proudly to the other ruler sitting before her on a throne carved from the trunk of a willow tree. 

She was made of battle scars; of boiling blood and of fire- a weapon forged from the hands of the dragon gods of the east. A diplomatic thing like this was nothing compared to the battlefield- right? Yang raised a brow and quipped a smile- ignoring the shadowing glares of guards from far around her. She straightened, quickly, clearing her throat. The Beast Queen watched her closely, eyeing that stump of an arm, her hands folded gently around the unmoving shadow of a cat- which, on a second glance appeared more bird-like, and on a third glance daemon-like. Yang decided when the shape appeared dragon-like on the fourth glance that the creature was a shape-shifter and ignored it for the time being.

“You might know as to why I’ve come from the East to converse with you,” Yang finally said after an uncertain silence. The Beast Queen raised a brow in turn before turning to one of the guards at her side. He quickly made a move forward and brought a rolled parchment from a bag at his side and handed it to his queen with a low bow. Yang noted his faunus ears and placed her hand on her hip, watching the woman of black hair and honey eyes unfurl the letter. 

“It says you wished for an allegiance,” The other Queen stated after a moment of reading and rereading the letter- she wasn’t to blame, Yang found that after losing her right arm her handwriting had become rather...un-eligible. “That you wished to form some sort of bond between our two nations?” Yang quickly nodded in agreement.

“Yes, Lady…”

“Belladonna,” answered the other without looking up from the letter. 

Yang held back a frown and stepped forward, glancing from side to side at the guards hidden amongst the shadows of the throne room. “Yes, fair Lady Belladonna. I travelled across the Golden Sea seeking an allegiance with you and your nation,” the blonde woman paused for a moment and watched as Belladonna lowered the letter, staring at her. After blinking from her stupor, Yang cleared her throat and continued, “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Beast of the North?” Blake frowned. 

“Such...problem seems to be easily conquerable with your assets.” The Beast Queen’s voice was sharp and unforgiving. Yang’s previous smile melted- this was not going as easy as she wished it to be. 

“If it were so easily conquerable I very much doubt I would be here,” she answered steadily, holding Blake’s cold gaze with a fierce one of her own. “The Beast has already ravaged the villages in my country at our border. He is gaining the assistance of millions of others. If we do not stop him now, I fear there might be a war between our two countries.” 

Blake stood abruptly, sending the creature sprawled lazily across her lap scurrying across the stone floor. The Beast Queen started towards the Dragon of the East. Yang, narrowed her eyes as the other stopped before her. “Don’t tell me you wish for my aid simply because he is a beast.” Her voice came soft like a threat, her eyes burned- cat-like. Yang stood her ground and stared down at the other ruler, a brow raised high.   
“No. I only worry about a possible war.”

Blake scoffed. “You seem to enjoy war, Dragon of the East.” 

Yang’s frown deepened. “Perhaps I once did,” she began, earning a sharp glare from the other as she began to pace around her. “But I’ve learned what war can do. I’ve seen what war can do, and I do not wish for your country to be ravaged by it.” Blake stopped abruptly, an anger in her eyes that sent a shiver down Yang’s back. 

“My people have been ravaged by a war your kind will never have to face,” She said cooly, her ear flicked. “The only reason why my people are hidden away underground like we are now is because of your kind- you shunned us away. You butchered us like animals, treated us as animals- killed us one by one until one day we all disappeared into the shadows because that is where your kind demanded us be. My people have been ravaged by a war far longer than any of your kind have. You know nothing of war, Dragon. You know nothing of our war and you will never understand it.” 

The Beast stormed past the Dragon towards her throne, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Yang swallowed hard and turned to watch her as she sat, guards surrounded her. 

“I want to help,” The Dragon pleaded, voice soft, eyes soft. 

The Beast’s amber eyes flashed once more as anger tore through them. “You and your kind can burn in hell.”


	9. CUDDLE DATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's a wonky time to wake up and do stuff, so let's just stay in bed

A soft sunlight filtered through the closed blinds, grazing the face of the black bedsheets; a pattern of horizontal, yellow lines on its darker backdrop. The walls of the apartment were carefully painted a light lilac, with forgotten, white drapes hanging open, allowing the sunlight to trickle slowly into the room. The quiet ambience of the room was soon broken- slowly and quietly. 

There was a slight stirring under the sheets that disturbed the previous silence of the apartment room; a quiet yawn muffled into a pillow caused another, slower stirring, and in turn a pair of arms raised into a stretch and held there in the air for a few moments. After, a groggy sigh was heard and the arms dropped back down, draping over a head of black hair. A mane of yellow then rose from under the black covers, blindly; Yang groped around the air in front of her, eyes still closed. Her brows furrowed tightly against each other as she sat there, absorbing the warmth of the morning sun. 

“Heaters don’t move,” came a grumble from the bed. Blake turned, patting the bed groggily for the woman who was just lying by her side. She cracked an eye slightly open and reached forward, grabbing Yang by the waist and pulling her back down to the bed. Yang responded with a slight grunt, turned onto her side, and drew Blake tightly into her arms, muttering an apology. Blake hummed in reply, comfortably resting her forehead in the nook of Yang’s neck. 

They laid there for what felt like thirty minutes, taking in the other’s warmth and whispering good mornings every other ten minutes because the other accidentally fell back asleep. Finally, Yang opened her eyes, kept them open, and winced as she adjusted to the sudden, bright light. After fully waking, Yang set a gentle hand on Blake’s back and gently ran her hand up and down, settling into a rhythm. 

Blake’s back arched in response and her eyes slowly fluttered open, a yawn on her tongue and morning tears in her eyes. She settled down after the yawn and raised her own hand to counter Yang’s back-rubs. “Alright,” she muttered, yawning again, “I’m awake.” Yang gave a groggy smile in turn before sitting up, slowly, twisting out of Blake’s arms. 

Yang raised her arm into a stretch, before running a hand through her tangled hair, yawning. Blake whined before she too, sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her ears twitched as the air conditioner whirled to life; the Faunus turned to glance at the alarm clock on the black nightstand at her side before she flopped back down onto the bed. 

“It’s too early…” Blake grumbled. 

Yang shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Babe, it’s twelve in the afternoon.” Blake grunted again twisting so that her face was pushing into the pillow; the corners of Yang’s lips quirked and she sighed in defeat before she too laid back down. Almost immediately after Yang sunk into the mattress, Blake was on her, an arm draped over her girlfriend’s stomach half-asleep again. “So it’s a cuddle day?” She asked quietly, her eyes halfway open. 

“Sorry,” Blake mumbled again. “I’m just so tired.” 

“It’s fine,” Yang answered quietly, placing a reassuring kiss onto Blake’s forehead- the dark-haired woman’s brow crinkled in response and she opened one eye slightly before tipping her head back, catching Yang’s second kiss with her lips. They held each other close for a moment of silence, listening to each other's heartbeats.

“So, cuddle date?” 

“...Heaters don’t talk…”


	10. MEETING THE PARENTS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title suggests, Yang meets the Belladonnas.

Picture a room of beige walls and pillars, potted plants scattered here and there across the dark wooden floors; a room warmed by cheerful smiles and soft laughter that sounded from a semi-large mahogany tea table set amongst the greenery to the south. Four people knelt around the table on carefully fabricated zabuton cushions, drinking out of carved cups from an expensive terracotta tea set. 

“You really do have a thing for blondes, dear.” 

Blake’s forehead hit the tea table in an embarrassed attempt to cover her quickly reddened face. She groaned lowly, ears flattened against the top of her head, Yang’s hand reassuringly patted the center of her back, laughing along with Kali and Ghira as Blake shrunk into herself. 

The laughter died after a few moments, and Blake’s father cleared his throat before sipping from his small tea cup. He raised his eyes to Yang, held a soft smile, and set the cup back onto its saucer. Blake, having noticed the slight shift in ambiance, raised her head slightly from the table, drawing her hands down to her sides. Yang’s hand followed and they silently interlocked fingers. 

“I’m glad we finally get to meet the Yang Xiao Long,” Ghira mused, paying little mind to the slight movement that Kali seemed to have magnified with a bright grin. “We’ve heard a lot about you from Blake in the past few months.” His eyes softened a little as he glanced quickly downwards at her prosthetic arm, his lips flickered into a quick frown but returned to a smile as his eyes met Yang’s again. 

Yang followed Ghira’s eyes down to her right arm and shrugged it a little before smiling, raising her gaze back up to him. “Oh! I’ve heard a lot about you guys from Blake too, Mister Belladonna.” Blake squeezed Yang’s hand tightly before untangling their fingers to pick up her cup. 

“Please, call me Ghira,” he said, resting his other hand over his heart, smiling. 

Kali raised a playful brow and tipped her head slightly to the side. “Good things, I hope?” She asked in a joking manner in which Yang responded with an eager nod. 

“Of course! She’s told me about how caring and patient you two are, and I think you two are amazing,” She said with a slight splay of her arms. Yang turned to look a Blake and found that the other woman was looking at her too. Yang paused for a moment, pondered, and continued, turning to look at Blake’s parents again. “She’s lucky to have both of you.” 

Kali’s eyes softened a little as she reached for her tea. “Well, we think she’s lucky to have you as a friend,” Yang. Ghira nodded into his tea, finishing it. Yang flushed a little and scratched the back of her neck with a blush; she muttered a bashful thanks before retreating to her own tea. 

Blake spoke now after receiving a glance from Yang; a silent okay. The raven haired woman nodded hesitantly before placing her teacup down onto the saucer. Again, she found Yang’s hand under the table and held it tightly. Ghira raised a brow. 

“Blake? What’s the matter?” He asked, lips pursed, amber eyes soft. His daughter closed her eyes for a quick moment before she found what she was going to say. 

She began with a slight hum and slowly eased into an explanation. “Mom, Dad,” she began, slowly, looking from her mother to her father, “As you know, I’ve recently come to terms with many things and realized...many things about...myself.” Ghira nodded along, sitting straighter.

“And I wanted to let you two know- well, we, wanted to let you two know that we’re-“ She paused, a smile broke out onto her face and she glanced at Yang, who held a slight grin. “We’re together.” She raised their hands, fingers intertwined and waited for a reaction from either of her parent’s.

Blake and Yang waited for only a few seconds before a huge smile perked onto Kali’s face. Kali raised her hands to her face, tears, for whatever happy reason had began to collect in her eyes. Ghira sat emotionless for another moment or two, processing her daughter’s revelation carefully.

Yang shifted a little and Blake lowered their hands. “Dad, I know you might not...approve of this, but we just felt that you two needed to know about-“ 

Ghira lowered his face into his hands for a moment, stopping Blake from finishing her sentence. Kali watched him for a moment, mildly concerned as to what he was going to say or do. He looked up from his hands again, tears in his eyes, a smile on his face. 

“I’m so proud of you two.”

It happened so suddenly, but one moment Yang was sitting in the ground, and the next she was being crushed in a massive Ghira-hug alongside Blake, who looked just as shocked as Yang felt, before tears collected in her eyes and she sobbed into her father’s shoulder, relieved.


	11. BEEUNION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My take of the beeunion?

The silence- cold, confusing, and emotionless- was what tore her heart apart. Not the red eyes, those only made her flinch; not that cold, calculating, unfamiliar gaze. The silence was what got her; it made her draw Gambol Shroud and take to the defensive, her heart hammering in her chest, apology trapped in her throat. 

A muscle feathered in Yang’s jaw and she swiveled her gaze away for just a moment, pondering. Blake stepped back in that short minute, cautiously lowering her weapon, ears flat against her head. The silence was so out of character that she half-expected the other to crack a joke suddenly; that Yang’s crimson eyes would fade back to the lilac that Blake loved to stare into. 

But no such thing happened. 

Yang raised her reddened gaze back up to her again, flinched when Blake flinched, and ran her prosthetic hand through her golden mane. “You didn’t run,” the blonde finally said, breaking that unforgiving silence, breaking Blake’s heart furthermore. Blake avoided Yang’s gaze and parted her lips to speak, thought better of it, and sighed, her shoulders drooping. Yang stood still; watched still, her eyes unwavering. “You didn’t run,” she repeated, softer, to herself; those red eyes dimmed a little and she raised her left hand to her face, covering it. 

Blake straightened, sheathing Gambol Shroud away, her amber eyes ever watching, faltering, ever silent and close to tears. “I’m done running,” she said, quietly, drawing Yang’s attention from her thoughts. The blonde raised a brow, dropped her arm to her side. 

“You are?” She asked, lilac. 

Blake chewed the inside of her lip, her fist clenched tightly, a foot already forward and on it’s way to Yang’s side. Yang didn’t move as Blake hurried forward down that alleyway, tears already starting to bead in her eyes, blurring her vision- but she didn’t care. She stopped a foot away from the blonde- suddenly- a nagging thought stopped her from continuing; lowered her head when the tears started to fall. 

They dropped to the ground like little raindrops. 

“You...hate me, don’t you?” She croaked. “You don’t want to have anything to do with me. You hate me, right, Yang?” She asked, raising her teary eyes, shocked when she was suddenly drawn tightly into Yang’s warm embrace. Blake raised her hands and pulled the other closer, rested her forehead onto Yang’s shoulder and silently cried- months of stress escaped her as Yang gently patted her back.

Silence again. 

“I don’t hate you,” Yang finally said quietly and drew back after Blake had gathered her bearings. Yang rested her hands on Blake’s shoulders, those lilac eyes brimmed with tears. “I wouldn’t ever hate you, Blake. That’s...just ridiculous.”

“But you arm-“ Blake lowered her gaze to Yang’s right arm and hesitantly placed her hand on it- flinched at the metallic coolness of it. 

“Is wickedly cool and amazing,” Yang finished with a faint chuckle and somber smile. Blake raised her eyes again to Yang’s and opened her mouth to speak again before Yang shook her head, already knowing what the other was going to say. “I made that choice, Blake. I made the choice to charge him and I have no problem living out the rest of my life with the consequence- as long as you’re safe I’m a hundred and fifty percent alright with losing my arm.” 

Blake swallowed hard, wiping tears from her eyes with the long sleeves of her white jacket, her heart drumming. Yang brought Blake into her arms again, closed her eyes, and sighed heavily; patted the faunus’ back soothingly and said quietly, one final time,

“You didn’t run.”


	12. REMEMBERANCE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rip blake

Demons are hard to fight.

No, not those creatures that clawed their ways out of a fiery hell, breathing curses, bleeding black- the invisible ones that were blackness, sick thoughts. The ones that take form as a nagging, black haze in the back of your head- breaking your concentration, your faith, your trust- those were the demons to watch out for. Those demons are the quiet and dangerous kind.

Blake watched as the stars in the sky passed overhead, slowly, twinkling. The Menagerian horizon was always so bright, filled with those tiny, glowing diamonds and a bright-lighted, shattered moon whose rays cast a calming, white light across the entirety of the small island. To the people of Menagerie it was a beacon, floating high above their heads; a reminder that there was still some hope in this world. From her spot atop the highest, silver sand dune in the deserts just outside of Kuo Kuana, Blake could see the entire stretch of Menagerian night sky, the billions of stars- she relished the cool sea air, breathed it in, breathed it out tightly against her teeth. 

Her abdomen burned slightly, remembering.

The calmness of the night sky was what she missed the most about Menagerie. That, and the homey feel the island had to it. Because of its size, there was no need for vehicles, and in turn, Faunus walked the streets, chatting happily amongst themselves and surrounding strangers in their safe haven- a friendliness seen only by this little island all the way out in the corner of Remnant. After so long away, Blake was surprised when one of the vendors at a stall she had stopped by started a sudden, chirpy conversation with her, “How was your day so far, young lady?” He’d asked. “Not good? Well, I sure hope you find a smile soon. Take a flower- it’s on the house.” She’d been so flattered by his kindness she silently left a small roll of lien on his stall- for the flower and his hospitality. 

Vale had been...different to say the least- more active, awake. It was still comforting, Blake recalled, recounting the billions of stars stretched far above her. It was more monotone greens and greys than anything else, louder in the streets, louder in homes. The nights in Vale were full of airships and the low humming of vehicles. Her dreams were easily disturbed there whenever the engine of a motorcycle flared to life or whenever a band of cars would blare their horns. Blake sighed heavily and stared out into the distance reminiscing; clenched her fists tightly around a handful of sand. But the colorful people she met in that monotonous, overly-loud city just about made up for the nightly disturbances. 

She felt her lip quirk upwards into the slightest of smiles, picked at a pebble, stared past the horizon, past the sea, and to where her old teammates either were or weren’t- she’d left...abruptly after all. Weiss, most likely home in that white wasteland, Atlas, was probably recouping and adjusting, Blake thought with a slight pucker of her lips. Whatever it was the heiress was doing, Blake silently wished her luck.

And what was it in Vale? Springtime? Blake exhaled sharply, imagining Ruby picking through a springtime garden, giving names to little, flowering buds and insects, dark circles under her eyes, followed closely by Taiyang, a flower basket hugged between his arm and his side. Flower picking for Ya- 

Blake jerked a little, throat tight, realizing that the silver sand around her had gradually began to bleed into the faintest of purples. Her side was aching again; lightheaded, she forcefully dismissed the thought and continued, counting the stars again. 

Vale. She continued pondering, shyly. 

Her second home. 

Blake shivered in the warm moonlight as a phantom wind passed through her. Of course she missed it- those towering oak trees, Beacon- everything. From that bookstore hidden around three corners to even that pesky dog Zwei, Blake suddenly felt a hole tear through her chest, leaving her empty with longing. She stood after a moment of rubbing her arms; brushed the silver sand from her pants, her lips curved into a frown. She fought away those nagging memories. 

Just weeks ago she was there, laughing with the other members of team RWBY, studying for Professor Port’s test; training for the Vital festival. Just weeks ago she was happy, truly, truly happy, with friends she considered family and a partner who-

She stumbled back, eyes wide and shook her head violently. Again, she ripped the thought from her mind, shaking, her heart pounding. A hot pain pulsed in her lower abdomen and Blake rested a gentle hand above the newly healed wound, chewing the inside of her mouth- she sighed again after basking in the moonlight, dropping her hands to her side. 

Blake gazed up into the night sky somberly, her lips pressed into a thin line and hoped with a heavy heart that her old teammates were okay.


	13. Nonbeliever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a response (?) to a request I received on Tumblr! I had a really nice time writing this. I hope you all enjoy reading it!

Nonbeliever 

Any mention of that blasted dragon’s name- any hint, whisper, or thought of that beast sent children running home and had men gathering their weapons. Any mention of that monster, any at all, caught the curious, twinkling eye of a nonbeliever. While the children fled and men took arms, a young woman stood in the center of that small, village square, squinting into the sky; looking and listening for the myth with a leather-bound journal and a quill at the ready. She didn’t believe the story of a dragon goddess that came with the sweet smelling spring and bright sun. When the village elders babbled anxiously in their cottages and boarded their windows, the nonbeliever sat outside; watching, listening, waiting. 

There was no such thing as a god because that was just too unrealistic- a heavenly body who could change fate with a snap of their fingertips; who could control the stars and fire and earth…It was mythical. Completely, absolutely, ridiculously absurd, the nonbeliever concluded with an angered scribble in her leather journal. No such thing. No such thing. One hundred percent: impossible. Because God’s didn’t mean to have her arms dotted with the lines of purple-blue bruises. They wouldn’t have fooled her into loving a man who loved her in such a painful way, would they? 

No. 

The answer was no because the gods were fair, and kind, and humble- because the gods didn't exist. 

So she sat outside, glaring into that heavenly sky at every passing cloud, every passing bird, and that red-orange sun; ignoring the shouts of warning from the men and the threatening command of her husband as they all ducked indoors. She’d prove them wrong. She’d prove all of them wrong. There was no goddess of the sun, of dragons, or of warmth- of fire or lavender or of strength. 

And for a long time, it remained like that- nothing appeared in the skies. No spiraling, golden dragon, no goddess or god. Nothing. The nonbeliever was right. There was no such thing as gods. 

Except there were. 

It happened one day under the calm of the rising dawn. Men had already risen from their slumber long before the horizon had bled from vibrant purples to dark oranges to pastel yellows, and had already organized a hunting party for that day; the women and children were just waking and the elders were already beginning their morning prayers; the nonbeliever sat in her usual spot in the middle of the village square, with her sleeves hugging her arms, tightly covering her newest bruises. There was an unnerving silence that morning where the usual singing birds sang no song; where the song-loving insects didn’t sing along. Something was wrong, but not many people seemed to notice- or they did notice, but they just didn’t care. 

“My love,” came the calm before a storm. The woman flinched quietly as her husband’s hands caressed her shoulder, her hair, her neck. “I’m to be gone until sunset. Ghira has found a remote hunting spot in a patch of mountain land. You’re to prepare the stove,” It was an order backed by the threat of a beating and she felt it- mouth dry, arms tense. “Stop staring at nothing and go,” his voice was soft and sharp; quiet and unforgiving. She turned just a little, rested a hand on his arm and gave it a careful, cautious squeeze- her eyes skill watched the sky. 

“I will. A few moments more and I shall go, Adam.”

He grunted in return, unpleased by her response, and started to argue, but when another warrior called for him, he angrily shut his mouth and left his wife’s side. Following the subject of how the Gods didn’t exist, the nonbeliever firmly believed that neither did love. She stared up at the sky before she adjusted and nervously tapped the leather of her notebook. There'd be hell to pay later, but things for later should be worried about later, so she pushed the thought to the back of her mind and ignored it as it nagged at her. She accompanied her husband and her father’s hunting group to the edge of the village and watched them disappear into the distance under the rising sun. She stood there for a long while watching the world change color, before returning back, her eyes raised to the sky and her ears listening to a jarring crescendo of bugs as they took from trees in a panic. 

It was chaos. 

Black songbirds took screeching to the skies; bugs zipped past her in a panicked hurry to escape an invisible being behind her. She felt the panic fall in her stomach and took off into a mad sprint as it rose and rose- now throbbing in her throat and stinging her nose. There was a danger: one that made her hair rise and her skin pimple. Something. Something. Something. There was something behind her and she dared not look back. She ducked under a low-hanging branch and swallowed the bile rising in her throat; pawed at the leaves obscuring her vision as the threat shadowed not far behind her. Danger. Danger. She felt nausea in waves as she sprinted and ducked, ducked and sprinted- heaving and cursing and praying all the same. It was catching up, whatever it was: warm. 

She slowed to a stop when a soft voice called out behind her, apologizing to the birds and the bugs and beckoning them back to the homes they fled from: “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I meant not to panic you.” The nonbeliever turned on an unsure beat before ducking into the bush nearby.

Hidden under silky shadows, she watched as a figure made their way tentatively from the emptied forest- distraught and somber. A golden maiden with arms and legs dotted with golden scales stood with a disheveled, golden mane and calm, lilac eyes that the nonbeliever soon realized was staring at her. The sun pulsed brighter, the honey-less forest smelled of honey. 

The nonbeliever’s panic ebbed away and she basked in that calm radiance, hand pressed tightly against the mossy side of an oak; flinched when the other woman cautiously approached her, those clawed hands raised in surrender and those eyes ever so lilac and calm. “I apologize,” Came that voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you either.” The other woman stopped just short of the oak, offered a kind smile, and extended her hand forward in a welcoming kind of way to the nonbeliever crouching behind the oak. “It’s alright. I won’t hurt you, I prom-“

“What are you?” The nonbeliever asked quickly, amber eyes wide and scared and curious. The other woman paused. Her lip curled into a frown and she set her jaw. With a wave of her scaly arms, she drew the nonbeliever's eyes to them. 

She watched as the woman took a step backward into a small gap of sunlight between the tree leaves and watched still as the grass beneath her feet turned a vibrant, healthy, green color; watched on as light gathered at her fingertips. 

“That question should be more specific,” came the maiden’s careful response as she kneeled to the ground. The light slid off her fingertips and into the ground, and just seconds after the light disappeared between the blades of grass into the rich soil, green stems shot upwards, breaking from the ground and hurriedly growing into small stalks of Lavender flowers. 

The nonbeliever stiffened. 

The woman then waved a hand over the flowers again which set them on fire. “I could answer it a number of ways,” she continued, watching the fire burn the flowers to the ground. “I could say I’m the goddess of the sun, of fire, of dragons- warmth and lavender and strength,” she stated, hunch-backed and eons older than what she appeared to be. “Or, I could say that I am Yang- and that would be all you need to really know.” 

The goddess rose slowly to her feet before turning to the nonbeliever whose eyes were wide and now believed. She shook her head thrice, bit her index finger, and released a heavy sigh- shaking. “This is impossible- it’s...it’s ridiculous and a trick of my head!” She muttered, and muttered, and muttered, rising to her feet and peeking out from behind to tree. “You’re in my head. You’re not real.” The goddess quirked a brow and rested her hands on her hips; brushed her golden mane from her eyes before stepping forward cautiously- eyes set on the woman behind the tree who stood her ground even as shivers racked down her body. 

But she was- she was very much real with her touch of sunlight that reminded the nonbeliever of her childhood and of love; the little sideways smile that caused a dimple to crease in her golden-brown skin was kind; the freckles that dotted her face were attractive and mesmerizing. She was beautiful. 

And she was real.

“Oh my gods,” the nonbeliever whispered, drawing back from the dragon’s touch- soft even with her scales. She met eyes with her- felt the breath drawn from her; turned and started to madly dash away again, but Yang carefully caught her hand, eyes narrowed. 

“What happened to you?” Yang asked quietly, lifting the black-haired woman’s sleeve just a little so she could count the bruises and the distant, fading scars. With each scar and bruise against her fair skin, the goddess’ pupils became more and more snake-like, and she looked up with a quiet fury that caused the nonbeliever to flinch harshly. “What happened?” Yang asked again before the woman ripped her arm away- her breathing heavy and unstable. 

“None of your concern- so...so get away from me,” The nonbeliever gasped, her eyes wide with fear. Yang instantly stepped back, her own eyes wide with concern, her arms raised in surrender once more. She stepped back again and watched bitter tears stream down the woman’s face as she glared fitfully in her direction. “Didn’t you hear me?! Get away!” The nonbeliever quickly bent down and grabbed a handful of soil and cast it at the goddess, her eyes wild and scared; her bruises pulsing and her scars burning. The dragon only shook the dirt from her hair and stared grimly at the broken woman before her. 

“I hear you,” she said as she stood and carefully approached the woman with honey-amber eyes and hair as black and silky as night. “I hear you,” she repeated, drawing the sobbing woman into her arms for a much needed, warm embrace.


	14. CRYPTID

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spooky spooky bumbleby AU written around halloween i think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys sorry about the lack of updating LOL i kinda forgot I had an AO3

PT. I

Her footsteps were muffled by the sodden leaves beneath her feet. The soil reeked of mold and decay- the air unclean and dead. Blake Belladonna crept through the night, through the swamp, and stopped soon before the gates of an old cemetery guarded by tall, black, metallic gates. The silence of a thousand shattered souls masked her presence, swamping her in a deadly calm. The distant buzzing of mosquitoes and the cries of nightmarish birds reminded her to work fast. The Midnight would soon arrive.

A creature of eldritch lore that rose from this grave site, the Midnight was an unseen creature that hungered for human flesh and blood. It was presumably the same creature that took her father from her. Blake shivered in her humid surrounding, remembering the town's display of her father's mangled, half-eaten corpse after a local fisherman had brought him from the river. That day, she grew up from the daughter of a village hero and slipped into a dark and forgotten space. She disappeared into graves, reappearing only with treasures that sold for high prices on the black market. She built a throne for herself from broken coffin doors and silk flowers; wilted roses and lilies.

Blake straightened her thick, dark coat and pulled the black bandana around her neck up to cover her nose and mouth before drawing a small dagger from its sheath on her belt. She carefully picked her way between patches of thick mud, noting how the buzzing of bugs had grew slightly louder- agitated. Blake slashed at the chain with her dagger and watched it fall into the dirt. Without missing a beat, she edged the cemetery gate open before stepping through. She shouldered a large burlap-sack and surveyed her monotone surroundings- black, grey, and an even darker black.

The air stilled.

Ignoring the sudden silence of the insects and birds, Blake made her way across a gravel path and stopped before the first headstone in the ground. A clawed first name and a barely eligible Rose - a sister, a hero watched her as she examined the grave. Blake scoffed, turning from it. There wouldn't be anything valuable in that one- the soil was already turned- somebody beat her to it. She continued making her way deeper and deeper into the cemetery. Soon, tombstones began crumbling to a fine dust. Blake stopped at the last grave, sweat dripping down the back of her neck. Every single grave had been upturned.

Cursing her luck, Blake decided with an irritated sigh that she should at least double check the grave. Choosing the oldest one with a headstone that read, unclearly, Xiao Long, she dropped the sack. Blake drew a shovel from the bag and sank it into the ground- she dug for roughly half an hour before the tip of her shovel hit a coffin lid. Blake dabbed at her forehead with the back of her hand and let out a quiet sigh before feeling the edges of the wooden coffin for a latch. With a satisfied hum, Blake unlatched the coffin and threw open the lid.

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. The coffin was relatively empty, boasting nothing but two meager, jade jewels- a ring carved into the form of a dragon and a necklace sporting a rose emblem- there was no body. Blake frowned, swiped the jade ring and necklace, and thought nothing of it- sometimes there wasn't a body to bury. She clambered out from the hole, her pants dirty and her shirt soaked through with sweat. With an unsatisfied grunt, Blake tossed the jewelry into the sack, shouldered the bag, and grabbed her shovel. She moved again to another grave, hoping it would provide her with something more.

The sound of a snapping branch made Blake whirl around and glare down her surroundings. There was nothing but the many headstones and a thin fog that had began to cover the ground. She dropped the shovel as a chill raced up her back and instantly went for the dagger sheathed at her side, muttering, "Just a legend," repeatedly, her left leg growing numb. Without a second glance, Blake took off, limping hurriedly to the cemetery gate- the buzzing sound of mosquitoes erupted from behind her, followed by an ear-piercing screech of a bird hidden in the dark shadows of the trees around the cemetery.

The cemetery gate slammed shut when she was three feet away from it, and to avoid slamming into it, Blake skidded to a halt, her eyes wide, chest heaving, heart pounding.

The Midnight- in all its eldritch glory- was here.

The soft padding of footsteps alerted Blake- who still faced the gate in awe- that she was no longer the only being there. Heart in her throat, dagger in hand, she turned on the balls of her feet- accepting her fate.

However, there was no swirling blackness or devilish fiend. Just a beautiful woman, with brilliant, golden hair and eyes the color of lilacs- clothed in a tattered and ripped rags. Blake lowered her brows and raised a hand to her eyes, rubbing them in hopes to make the illusion disappear without another trace. When Blake looked back up again, the woman hadn't disappeared.

There were rumors that the Midnight was a creature of many faces, many voices. Blake swallowed a lump in her throat and looked past the woman and searched the graveyard for any signs of a creature sent from the depths of Hell. Her heart froze when she found none.

The woman watched Blake, her eyes puffy. "How the hell did you get here?" She asked, her voice above an angered whisper. Blake drew her mouth into a thin-lipped frown and looked over her shoulder at the gate that had closed and she motioned to it, her mouth dry. The blonde woman raised her eyes to the gate behind Blake, carefully assessing the cut chain on the ground and the dagger in the thief's hand. She lowered her gaze to the sack at Blake's side and her eyes melted from a light purple to a dark, intense red. Blake marvelled at the supernatural change in woman's eyes before following her gaze to the sack at her feet. The thief looked back up and cleared her throat, drawing the woman's attention to her. "Return what you stole from me, human, and I will let you live," the woman demanded- pleaded.

Blake shot another glance down at the sack next to her and hesitantly nodded before kneeling slowly onto the ground, an invisible pressure on her back. The blonde woman watched, her gaze aflame, as Blake pulled out the jade necklace and ring. The Midnight's fiery gaze softened back to it's original lilac hue and she took a hesitant step forward to reclaim what was apparently hers. Blake extended her hand and the other woman carefully picked the jewelry from the her rough palm. Their hands briefly brushed against each other.

The Midnight radiated a strange and comforting warmth- a longing that Blake felt in her cheeks, in the back of her throat, and the bottom of her stomach. The other retreated- quickly- into the back of the graveyard without another word, staring blankly at the stones in her hand, leaving Blake alone at the front entrance. The gate swung back open and the sounds of nocturnal swamp life returned, quietly.

Blake shook her head, the supernatural meeting ended as soon as it had started, and while Blake's first instinct was to go for the door, she hesitated; threw a glance to the back of the graveyard. The Midnight's appearance, at first ingrained into her mind from fear, was slowly starting to blur and fade- much too quickly to the thief's liking.

With a silent curse at herself, Blake sheathed her dagger at her side, straightened her black cloak, and headed back through the fog and deeper into the cemetery.

PT. II

"The gate was open. Why are you still here?" Asked the woman of golden hair, her back to the thief, as she stared at the crumbling tombstone- Xiao Long engraved into the stone. She clenched her fist to her chest, her jaw set. "Aren't you afraid of what a monster like me can do?" The Midnight spat bitterly, turning. Blake winced in the intense, red glare the woman threw her way and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand as she stood in the way of an agitated wildfire.

"Terrified," Blake answered, honestly. "But no monster would deny himself of a...meal, now would they?" She asked, forcing a grin. The other woman reeled slightly, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Blake's mouth went dry and she pressed her lips into a thin line. The other scoffed in response before turning her attention back to the grave, her shoulders hunched.

"The village sent a hero to slay me, hm?" The Midnight continued, tracing a hand in the dirt. "Now's your chance. Bash me up the head and knock me out. Carry me to your village and mount me to a stake and then burn me to a crisp. They'll give you a medal or whatever and make you the village hero, right? That's why you're here, right?" Blake winced at the sharpness of the creature's words.

"I am no village hero," Blake said, her voice quiet. The other stilled, listening. "I am a grave robber- and no, before you ask, I did not come to slay you to gain fame," the thief continued, her eyebrows scrunched together as she pondered whether or not she should join the creature on the ground. The silence of the graveyard sent a shiver down her spine. They remained in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, Blake standing, the woman sitting. The thief shifted, drumming her fingers against her leg. "I'm just trying to make some coin."

"My father was tied to a stake and burned this day. Five years ago," the woman said, brushing her hand over the faded etching. Blake's stomach dropped as she watched the Midnight, cleaning the tombstone- deep in her reminiscence.

"He was like me," she continued, lightly. "Just like me in every way possible." Blake bit her lip. "We loved animals! The creek by our swamp home was filled with little tadpoles and minnows and, me and him, we would always go catch them," A pause, as the other drew back her hand from the headstone and curled her fingers tightly into a fist. "We...loved the night sky. The stars were always so beautiful and full and the moon- ever changing."

Blake cautiously stepped forward, the sorrowful expression on her face genuine. "We hated the mosquitoes though," the other continued with a weak chuckle as she drew her knees to her chest. Blake sat down, her eyes stayed on the woman.

"The only difference," she said, her voice cracking, "He was human." The Midnight- of whoever the hell this woman was- turned, her eyes, once lilac, now a faded blue. There were tears in her eyes. Blake's amber eyes widened, words of sympathy caught in her throat. Human, she repeated internally- the shock settled at the bottom of her heart and hardened.

"Your people dragged him away, yelling that he was the Midnight- that he had been killing you one by one- but he was human! The ones that killed him were humans too, so why did he have to die?" The other woman asked again, clutching her knees tightly.

Blake opened her mouth to speak, paused, her lips twitched into a frown. "I don't know," she answered grimly- softly- turning her attention to the grave. So that was why there had been no body in the coffin. Bugs hummed in the distance when the pair fell into silence. Blake cleared her throat after a moment and chewed the inside of her mouth nervously. "My-" she hesitated, pondering why she was even talking at all to the woman beside her, "My father was killed. Five years ago as well," she said, turning to look at the other.

The Midnight scrunched her brows together and she turned as well. "How?" She asked, frowning.

"One of your kind," Blake responded, quietly. "The Midnight-" she was interrupted- startled by the sudden and violent change of color in the blonde woman's eyes.

"Oh," the other muttered. "Her," like it was nothing and everything at the same time.

Blake narrowed her eyes. "Do you know her?" She pressed.

"No."

The other woman turned the rose pendant in her hand now, watching it tearfully. "I mean yes," she said again, sucking in a deep breath. "I know her."

Blake's eyes followed the pendant. "She killed my half-sister, so of course I know her." Blake's heart dropped again as the other woman turned her attention back to her.

"My mother," she said with a coolness that left Blake's skin cold. "She dropped her cursed namesake on me so that I would be hunted for things I did not do- so that she could run away while I stood and fought all those she had wronged." She paused.

"Why the hell am I tell you any of this anyway?" Asked the ghoul, drawing her lips into a thin frown. "I don't even know you- and you're human to make matters worse." She made a move to stand, kicking up dust as she jumped to her feet. "You should just...go back home grave robber. I'm in no mood to eat."

Blake scoffed, as she pulled herself onto her feet- straightened her coat. "You still have a hell of a lot to tell me." Her words stopped the ghoul from walking away any further- stunning her.

"Like...what?" The woman asked, arching a brow. "This is forbidden and dangerous. Go back to your village and just sell flowers." Blake scowled as the blonde turned to move again, stuffing the jewelry in her rag pockets.

"Like your name."

The other stopped in her tracks again before whirling around, eyes wide. Blake, after a few moments of staring her down, nodded and let out a quick sigh. "Blake. Blake Belladonna." She extended her hand to the blonde ghoul and waited.

And waited.

But the woman eyed her hand carefully, a pain in her chest, and simply vanished into the shadows of the graveyard, a wilting sunflower in her place.


	15. SPRING TIME

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was an entry of mine for bumbleby week from a while back. Hope you enjoy!

There was a garden outside the castle walls.

Full of violets and lilies- with lavenders and lilacs and roses and willow trees. The grass was sweet and a dark, dark green, with some ladybugs and some bumblebees. The air smelled of honey, the world was of spring, and two figures walked the gravel path amicably.

"What was that joke that you always say?" One figure asked.

"Which of the twenty? I always forget. All of them are rather funny." The other one asked, a grin on her face.

The first one rolled her eyes and tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "You're full of yourself, Lady Xiao Long."

The lady smiled. "I prefer Sir, Milady."

They walked.

And walked.

The gravel path was surrounded by a large, circular field full of flowers various shades of purples, blues, pinks, and reds. It crunched under their uneven footsteps. The princess had to take two quick steps to match with the sir's one-step-stride. To compensate, they held hands.

The woman with the tied-up blonde hair was pulled to a stop when the other woman paused suddenly to watch a pair of squirrels dart between the flowers. "Princess," the blonde woman said, watching, "We should continue."

"I know."

"I know you know."

"I know you know that I know," the princess retorted.

The sir gave the princess a wide smile, shook her head, and waited with the princess until the squirrels scampered off into the treeline. They continued again, slowly, chatting about the day.

"What did Sir Port make you do today?"

"Simple sparring. I kicked Jaune's butt."

The princess laughed.

They walked around a stone fountain and the knight flipped a gold coin into the sparkling water. "For good measure," she said. "I've got a jousting tournament tomorrow."

"Oh yes- how do you think that will go?"

"I'll be jousting in your name, Lady Blake," the knight said with a certain nod. "I won't lose."

Then, as they continued following the path, she motioned in the direction of the stone castle. "Shall we return? You have a lesson soon," the knight asked-Blake replied with a heavy sigh.

"Perhaps we should, but I wanted to spend a little more time with you. You know how Governess Goodwitch is."

The knight winced at the name. "Aha...I remember when she found us walking out of your chambers and how she scolded me. Might I remind you that Sir Port isn't very different? When Goodwitch told him, he made me run laps in the heaviest suit of armor he could find."

The princess winced. "Atrocious," she said; the knight laughed.

"I suppose so- but check out my muscles!" She flexed and the princess burst out into flustered laughter.

"Yang!" She exclaimed.

"What?!" Yang exclaimed back.

They laughed as they walked the gravel path back towards the castle, hand in hand, smiles on their faces.

And then, under the birdsong and afternoon sun, they approached the castle gates. Yang drew back her hand and straightened. Her smile pressed into a thin frown and she greeted the two guards at the gates with a stiff nod. Blake followed after her, her head held high and her hands clasped neatly in front of her. They avoided one another's gaze and walked together as far as the large statue in the center of the courtyard before Yang bowed deeply and kissed Blake's hand.

"A good day to you," the knight said quietly, her eyes full of tears.


	16. LONG DISTANCE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend requested I write a fluffy one shot and I did. Here it is I hope you enjoy!

The lively, bustling noises of the marketplace under her apartment slowly coaxed Yang to consciousness. The early morning traffic was reduced to a few scattered, blaring car horns and angered bicycle bell rings. The chaos right outside her window, though loud, was comforting and familiar, and Yang took it all in with a heavy sigh. She turned onto her side and squinted across the room, out of the window, and into the grey Shanghai sky.

Yang contemplated getting out of bed and strongly encouraged herself to do so. Today I have to replace the engine on Mr. Sheng's moped, she thought to herself as she watched the clouds slowly pass overhead. That's going to take at least two hours considering how old the thing is. After that, Mr. Huang wanted me to look at his car. She furrowed her brow. What did he say was wrong with it again? She rolled over again, brought a pillow close to her chest, and groaned into it. Windshield wipers or something redundant. Then after three hours, probably, of trying to diagnose the problem, I'll take a one-hour lunch break. She shifted onto her stomach and sighed into her pillow as she went over the day's schedule. I should probably work on my bike too- maybe I'll do that before dinner, and- her phone buzzed from the other side of the room twice and broke Yang from her jumbled thoughts. She turned her head and stared at it from her bed.

Then, after a moment of silence, she rubbed her eyes and yawned before finally, she sat up, paused, stood, and stumbled towards her desk.

"Allô?"

"Comment ça va?"

Those two simple texts, sent from halfway across the world, couldn't have lifted Yang's spirits anymore. France, as the world knew it, was a country of romance, but Yang knew it more as the land of baguettes as well as the land in which a beautiful woman by the name of Blake Belladonna resided. She was everything.

Yang managed a groggy smile before she replied. 

"早"

"你怎么样?"

Yang waited for a few moments before Blake's icon popped into the corner of the screen. Her status flipped from Idle to Online and Yang's heart fluttered a little.

"That means good morning right?" Blake asked.

Yang plopped into her small office chair.

"Très Bien! You're getting better!"

"Nerd."

"Yeah. Your nerd. You have to deal with me every day till you get tired of me."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

A pause before Blake continued.

"So how are you this lovely morning?"

"Extraordinarily tired- also, isn't it like 1 am over in baguette country?"

"Haha- it is. I have a night shift tonight though, so don't worry too much."

"I can't ever imagine having a night shift. Sounds gross. I need my beauty sleep."

"First of all, they are indeed very gross. I don't get midnight reading time. Second of all, Tu es la plus belle fille que j'ai jamais vue."

"Midnight reading time? I'm dating a psychopath. Also, what does that even say?"

"Oh. You know."

"No??? I don't??"

"Lol."

"Ugh. you're really going to make me search it up?"

" ヽ(^‥^=ゞ) "

"You villain. You adorable, beautiful, cat villain. Okay fine I'll search it up."

She replied minutes later, her face red. "French really is the language of love."

"Ouais. It's a shame you don't completely understand it. Flirting with you is insanely hard because of the language gap."

"I'm getting better one word at a time."

"I know this and I'm proud."

Yang snickered and shifted in her chair. "My turn then. 我觉得你好漂亮."

Blake's icon flitted off of the screen for a few minutes before she returned with "H" as a response.

"H," Yang teased. She ran her fingers through her hair and glanced up at the clock mounted against her wall before she shot to her feet and frantically typed, "Oh snap. I gotta go open up the shop."

"Sorry for distracting you (⁎˃ᆺ˂). Have a great day! I love you!"   
"I love you too, 美丽的天使."

"H"

———  
Mr. Sheng's moped turned out to be easier to fix than Yang had previously thought it would have been. It was so easy in fact, Yang wondered if she rewired anything incorrectly, but when the older gentleman arrived to pick up his vehicle for a test drive later on that day, nothing seemed to have been wrong. "Today's a good day," she whistled as she dialed Mr. Huang's number on the phone hanging from the wall. "Maybe I can finish early."

She twirled the cord around her finger and waited as the line went through. Mr. Huang picked up momentarily; he hushed his children in the background with a candy bribe. Yang smiled and the two talked business. She agreed to meet Mr. Huang at her workshop after her lunch break and agreed to figure out what was really wrong with his car. He coaxed her into a cheaper price after mentioning the drop in business at his noodle shop and thanked her so many times when she agreed to accept sweets as a compromise, as well as promote his shop with posters in the window of her repairs store. After she hung up, Yang sighed and wondered who received the better end of the deal, but because he was a family friend, she shrugged it off. She could mail the candy to Ruby, who was studying abroad in Tokyo, or to her father, who was visiting family in Sichuan.

Yang cleaned her hands on a rag before throwing a clean shirt over her dirtied tank. Or, she thought, I could mail them to Blake. Her eyes lit up at the idea, but she shook her head nonetheless. Yang hung up a few of her tools with a sigh and did a quick roundabout check for any scattered nuts and bolts before she finally decided, with a quick glance up at the clock, that lunch sounded like a fine idea. She spun her keys around her finger, locked up shop for the hour, and briskly started making her way down the sidewalk towards Mister Missus' dumpling house.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Yang vaguely remembered thanking Mama Chen for a beautiful lunch, meeting with Mr. Huang for his appointment, chatting with a couple that appeared to have vehicular troubles right outside her shop, and helping a little boy fix a toy that some of his friends had accidentally broken (because he had told them it was indestructible). Right around closing time, however, a foreigner wearing a black suit hurriedly bustled into the shop, wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

"Excuse me?" He stuttered in broken Chinese. "Are you still open?"

Yang leaned over the counter and squinted at the gentleman, surprised. "Yes sir," she said in English when she noticed his struggle. "Is something the matter?"

His eyes lit up when she spoke and he sighed heavily in relief. "Oh thank God- hi, I'm so sorry about this, but my car broke down just a little ways away and I might miss my grandson's wedding. I asked around and everyone pointed towards your shop so I came running as fast as I could." He chuckled nervously. "I saw the light was off and I was worried that I had the wrong store. My Chinese isn't very good and-" he glanced down at his watch and scratched the back of his head. "I have just under two hours to get to the Shangri La hotel."

Yang whistled quickly and hopped over her counter. "That's quite far from here," she admitted with a frown. "I'm not liking that time gap too much, Sir, but I'll try my best." She grabbed a toolbox and waved the gentleman after her. "I'll get my bike, Sir. Which intersection did you say you broke down at?"

"The uh really long one. Jinshajiang or something."

"Oh! The main road? Oh, that's not too good." Yang hurried into the garage after she locked the front door; she pulled her toolbox over her shoulder and threw a tarp off of Bumblebee. Then, Yang clicked a button on the wall and waved the gentleman over to her bike.

"Oh, no. I pulled over into a lot when my car made a funky sound," he said, eyeing her motorcycle.

"What kind of sound? And where did you hear it?" Yang asked as she strapped a helmet to her head.

"When I was driving up to a light when I heard this knocking sound in my engine so I got worried and I pulled over." He said breathlessly before he took a seat behind Yang.

She handed him an extra helmet and quickly said, as she tugged on a pair of gloves, "Well, there are only four things I can think of that could result in that kind of noise: you either have a loose rocker arm, an excessive carbon build up, number three, or number four."

The man peeked over her shoulder. "What are the last two?"

Yang grinned, revved up her bike, and said, "Nothing good," before speeding out of the garage and into the street.

It turned out that the gentleman's car indeed had a loose rocker arm- a problem that Yang fixed in roughly half an hour. He thanked her graciously for saving his day and left her an envelope before he hurriedly went off to find the Shangri La hotel downtown. As Yang waved him off, she collected her tools, cleaned them off as much as she could, and just as the sun was barely peeking over an apartment complex, she hopped onto Bumblebee and made her way carefully back to her home.

When she got back, she locked up shop for the night and headed upstairs. Her dinner consisted of leftover lunch and the maybe-day-old takeout she found in the back of the fridge; after she showered, Yang decided to open up the envelope and maybe unwind with an hour or two of TV- but when she sat down and opened the envelope, she forgot about the TV and stared into the manilla, her mouth agape.

"Oh my god," she muttered, pulling the euros out of the envelope. She stumbled out of bed and hurried quickly over to her desk. "Two hundred and fifty euros. Why did he give me so much?" She asked, her brow furrowed. Yang opened the low drawer where she kept multiple envelopes labeled "Lyon, France" in messy characters, took each of the packets out, and scattered them across her desk. She fumbled them open and counted the yuan value in each of the packets. After half an hour, Yang sat back in her chair, staring at a notebook with wide eyes and a wide smile. "Oh my god," she said again, running her fingers through her hair.

"I have enough."

———

"Hey! How are you doing?"

"Doing alright, I'm just about to jump into bed. Wbu?"

"Nice nice send a pic (jk)"

"Pfft."

"I'm doing awight mistew bwakey. It's weally nice to heaw that you're dowing okay uwu."

"Ew. Gross."

";("

"You only ever do that when you're really excited over something. Did you get a raise?"

"A raise? At the shop that I own? Lol no. I got something better."

"OWO?"

"Ew."

"Now you know my pain."

"LOL. I'll never do it again. I pwomise."

"Hey, how do I block a number?"

"Well you see, first you have to-"

"??"

"Oof. Sorry. I have to turn off my totally radical cellular device for a bit. Sowee. I'm not stoked about this at all."

"Oh dw. I get that's it late there and all."

"What? OH. LOL. No. I'm on a plane."

"Wh?"

"See ya in a bit."

"Wait what?"

Message delivered.

"You meant 'talk to you later' right?"

Message delivered.

"Wait Yang. What?"

Message delivered. 

\----

The airport was crowded with tourists and people dressed in business suits. There was chatter everywhere; families met at the outside gate, businessmen spoke into their phones, and Blake heard a few babies babble and cry as their mothers bounced them to sleep.

Her heart pounded in her throat and her palms were beginning to clam up. Blake suddenly became very aware of her surroundings. She pulled her denim jacket closer around her and sunk just a little in the airport seat- all while she scanned the incoming wave of people for anyone with a shock of blonde hair. She squinted into the throng, and when the crowd thinned she sighed and bounced her leg.

She still couldn't believe that Yang was on her way; either thousands of feet still in the sky or at the luggage drop-off deep in the airport. She was here- or almost here- and that made Blake, well, happy was the only way she could describe it. The thought of Yang in the flesh, standing right next to her always made Blake a little giddy. Blake sat a little straighter in her chair when a fresh wave of people started popping into view.

"Rough ain't it?" Came a voice behind her. "It's always so difficult to find the person you're looking for in a bunch of people."

"Tell me about it," Blake replied. "She texted me yesterday and told me that she'd land around seven in the morning, but it's almost nine and-" Blake paused and she looked over her shoulder.

She saw her lilac eyes before the shock of golden hair, and without even thinking about it, Blake leaped forward and tackled Yang to the ground in a tight hug. A few people looked up from their phones and newspapers when they heard Yang's surprised yelp and then a thud when the two hit the floor. A few glanced at them with smiles before carrying on with their phone calls or reading the latest news. "Oh my god, oh my god," Blake whispered into Yang's hair as they scrambled to a seated position. Yang bared her widest grin and rubbed the back of her head when Blake managed to stammer, "You're here!"

"In the flesh!" Yang confirmed with a vigorous nod before being engulfed in another hug. Blake laughed into her shoulder and Yang wiped her happy-tears away with a brush of her thumb.

"Do you have any food recommendations? Because in those fourteen hours of my flight, I only ate a small baggie of pretzels because I fell asleep when they were handing out dinner," Yang said after they collected themselves.

"Have about we start you off with a baguette?"

"Gee golly gosh Ms. Bwake. I would wove one."

"Gross."


	17. ONE STEP AT A TIME

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was written fairly recently in a fit of sudden inspiration so i hope you guys enjoy.

She's taken you into her arms again as you dance slowly to the orchestra's melancholy, and for some reason, as you stare into her eyes you feel this sensation deep within you that starts from your heavy, beating heart and travels to your fingertips. It turns your ears and cheeks a slightly pink and it makes you glance away momentarily, mid-turn, as you lead her in a series of complicated steps and twists.

When she dips you after a spin, she watches your eyes and you see them glow with a happiness you never saw months ago. You know she's in love- and from the slightly queasy feeling you get in your stomach when you meet her gaze, you realize that you are too.

And for the first time, the thought of acknowledging your buried and hidden feelings doesn't scare you. Those looming, dark thoughts of betrayal and insecurity are burned away by the sheer intensity of her, and to elaborate further: her smile, her voice, her everything. Everything about her soothes you and you hope you have the same effect on her because god knows she deserves it after everything she's been through.

So as you lead her forward, one step at a time, one twist and twirl, you count the many times that her eyes sparkle as she looks at you, oblivious to the world around the both of you- oblivious to the dance you help her complete. Her entire focus is on you, and you enjoy it today in a way that is very much unlike yourself.

When the music finally decrescendos to a hum and the cello gives its last accompaniment to the eager violin, she sweeps you off your feet, holds you close to her body, and kisses you as you both turn and turn and turn until finally, with an ache, the violin completes it's last, soulful solo and she sets you down but doesn't release you from the warm hug she'd taken you into.


	18. PIECES OF MY MIND INTERWOVEN WITH THOUGHTS OF YOU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gay? lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haven't been feeling too well oof, but here's a thing

There's something so comforting about the fact that she exists somewhere out there in the world. She's probably doing something like stuffing a muffin in her mouth while playing Mario Kart or getting her masters degree in astrophysics or therapy- or maybe gaming if there was a school for that. You're not quite sure, but the thought of gaming finals has you in a fit of fluttery smiles. Would her exams revolve around head shotting an enemy or learning the fictional languages of aliens? You have no idea, but it's surely the thought that counts.

You wonder if she's thinking of you now, wondering when you'll come into her life. You wonder what scenario she's daydreaming about. Maybe you picked up her fallen wallet and ran through a downpour to find her. Maybe you two bumped into each other at a coffee shop and you accidentally spilled coffee on yourself. You chuckle a little at that one and gaze out of the window, hoping, wishing, and agreeing with her made-up thoughts about wanting to meet you.

You long for the day you can pull out of a nightmare, breath heavy and eyes wide, and have her there at your side, her hands gently caressing your tangled locks. The thought of her whispering lullabies soothes you, and your fist tightens around the coffee mug as the familiar bitter feeling of loneliness greets you again at the other end of the table for two. The words are stuffed in your throat and they itch at you. Bite at you.

You down the rest of the black coffee and leave a small tip before pushing away from the table, the hole in your heart a little bigger than it was before, daydreams racing through the back of your mind.

It's incredible how you don't even know her yet, but she's always on your mind.

Truthfully it's an impressive feat to want the comfort of somebody so much that you dream of their invisible warmth wrapping carefully around you. They're invisible.

She's invisible, but that won't stop you, will it?


	19. Childhood Friends!Au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is something cute? It's short bc i have to work on my english essay jdfnjdf

The doorbell rang and Yang was there in front of the door in an instant, on her tiptoes trying to peek through the peephole. “Who is it?” She called, sporting a knowing grin. There was silence on the other side for about three seconds before there was a knock, double-knock, triple-knock. In a single move, Yang jumped up, unlatched the door, twisted the lock, opened the door, and tackled the person on the other side, giggling. Blake let out a shrill yelp as she was engulfed in a sunny hug and joined in with Yang’s laughter when she realized that escape was futile. Yang pulled back, a little bob in her step, and grinned brightly. “Hiya Blakey!” She exclaimed, stumbling backwards back into her home, waving Blake in. 

“Hey Yang!” Blake answered just as enthusiastically, skittering in through the door, her little shoes already discarded next to a coat rack, forgotten. Yang handed her a pair of slippers before taking off down the foyer to the staircase, yelling, “Mama, Blake’s here!” as she passed the hall leading to the kitchen. “We’re going to be upstairs playing with Mister B!” And then she was gone, feet pounding against the stairs. Blake took off after her, slipping into a run with a laugh.

Summer’s melodic voice called from the kitchen in Chinese and Yang responded with a simple “Okay!” as she waited for Blake to reach the top of the stairs. The two stumbled over one another in their haste to reach Yang’s room. They tiptoed in front of the nursery and managed to stay quiet long enough to hear Tai humming a lullaby before they took off again, stampeding into the lavender colored room with Hello Kitty stickers plastered everywhere. Yang closed the door quietly behind them before she jumped forward onto her bed, sending a pile of stuffed animals into the air. Blake followed suit and landed right next to Yang with a squeal. From the pile, Yang pulled out the infamous Mister B--a stuffed teddy bear with an interesting mix of black and golden fur, a crooked bow tie, and a bee patch on his bottom--and tossed him to Blake, who fumbled for it in mid air. 

“Hello there Mister B!” She said when she caught him and cradled him in her arms. Yang disappeared into the pile for a moment before she popped back up, a purple teddy in tow. She gave the bear in her hands a gentle shake that caused her head to wobble side to side and hugged her close. “Good afternoon Madame Lilleena!” Blake greeted again, this time with a low bow of her head. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Blake,” Yang said in a voice one octave higher than her normal one. “The weather sure is wonderful, is it not? Oh! Mister B, what an honor it is to see you!” She bent Madame Lilleena over into a bow. Blake returned the bow with Mister B and cleared her throat.

“Good afternoon, Madame Lilleena,” She said, straining to make her voice deeper. “The weather is very good indeed!” Blake coughed, clearing her throat again and chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her head. “Doing Mister B’s voice hurts my throat,” she said, bouncing him on her leg. “Do you want to do it instead?” Blake cocked her head to the side, her ear twitching. 

Yang scrunched her nose and pondered the offer for a moment before she nodded in acceptance, smirking. “Only because I have a better man voice.” Blake snorted as they made the exchange. “Last week Mister B and Madame Lilleena had a space adventure,” Yang continued, motioning to the cardboard spaceship left discarded in the corner of her room. “And the week before that, they went scuba diving to recover a lost art...artifact from Atlantis.” 

“Well, technically that was us,” Blake quipped, rubbing Lilleena’s ear. “Your mom didn’t want them to get into the pool.” Yang hummed in agreement. 

“Right...it was still fun though! Anyways, what should they do this week?”

Blake tipped her head back and hummed, biting her lip. “What haven’t we done?” 

And almost immediately, Yang’s eyes lit up and her smile somehow brightened more. “Cowboys,” she whispered before she dove back into the pile of toys, resurfacing with a stuffed horse. 

“Cowboys?” Blake echoed, eyes wide. She pulled back for a moment before mirroring Yang’s smile. “Heck yeah!”


	20. spring maiden au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> h

Yang kneels onto the ground and brushes her hands across the dirt. She draws to a stop and hesitates for a moment, her brow scrunched, fingers twitching. She closes her eyes and she’s in warm darkness—green darkness, if that makes any sense. But it doesn’t. None of it does, and she’s convinced that none of it ever will. Maria had called it fate, a stroke of luck. How damn lucky are we to have a maiden on our side? She’d asked in an attempt to break the tension.

Qrow hadn’t said anything at all.

 

The powers came three days ago in the form of a jolting shock that sent Yang sprawling from bed, screaming as she hit the floor—as fire burned through the back of her head. There was darkness and then light, a piercing bright white that enveloped her body followed closely by a deafening silence. She rode the waves of white noise, paralyzed, unable to move, tears streaming down her face. It hurt, dammit. It hurt so damn much. The heat of fire crept up her fingertips, snaked around her arms, and burned into her flesh. She wasn’t sure if she were sweating or bleeding. Maybe both.

One moment the pain, the light, all of it was there and suffocating, but the next everything was gone. Darkness blew in overhead and cocooned her in the cold nothingness. She’d laid there, confused, battered, tired, squinting into the dark green with what felt like water lapping at her arms. She was so damn tired. Yang closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath before she heard, so distantly that she wondered if she had dreamed it, a quiet apology whispered with a final breath from a familiar, strained voice.

Yang shot upwards, felt the world spin around her as the power of Spring coursed through her veins, and sobbed immediately when her vision managed to clear and she saw her teammates crowded around her bedside.

Raven Branwen died three days ago, and it seemed like Yang Xiao Long was the only person that knew. She was proof of it, after all. She was Spring. Raven was Dead.

Of course it ate away at her. When she looked at her hands, her stomach churned. When she closed her eyes, she was immediately flung into that unfamiliar green, choking on rotting foliage as it came showering down onto her, like the invisible trees themselves were crying. Yang curled beneath the rot and sobbed.

~~

 

Blake was always there when Yang shook herself from the nightmares, always there when Yang needed to know that somebody was next to her. The first night, Blake had sung Yang back to sleep, played gently with her hair, hugged her close to her chest. The second night, she had wiped away Yang’s tears and kissed her cheeks softly. The third night, when Yang hadnfallen out of bed, choking and wheezing on her sobs, Blake laid the covers onto the ground and settled next to her, rubbing her back gently, assuring her that she was there. That she’d always be there.

She was also the person that had convinced Yang to give her new powers a little try. Blake had never pried—never asked what Yang saw in her nightmares because she knew that Yang would tell her when she was ready. And until she was, Blake had decided that she would be there. No matter what. She took the promise she whispered to Yang, held it in her palm, and solidified it into gold.

~~

 

Yang opens her eyes and chews on the inside of her mouth as she pulls her hand back from the ground, fingers curled into a tight fist. “I can’t do it,” she says flatly, glaring at the dirt.

“Not with that attitude,” Blake replies without missing a beat. Yang looks over her shoulder and watches Blake as she kneels down next to her. She doesn’t hesitate in resting a hand gently onto Yang’s shoulder. “I know you’re frustrated Yang, I would be too.”

“Frustrated doesn’t even cover it,” Yang grumbles. She rolls on the balls of her feet and falls backward onto the ground, sprawling her arms out. The grass tickles her arms and reminds her of Tai for some odd reason. “It’s like I won the world’s crappiest bingo game.” She draws her foot in and throws her hands upward, glaring at the clouds. “Bingo!” She yells before she drops her arms against the dirt. “I hope the Fates are happy.”

Blake doesn’t really have a response for that, so they just sit for a few moments, listening to the birds as they sing and absorb the pleasant breeze. Yang’s hand finds Blake’s and she sits up again, brushing the ground from her hair. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “For being hard-headed. I just…” And Blake’s arms are around her before the first tear ever hits the grass. Yang cries into her neck, fists clenched. “She’s gone, Blake,” she whispers, and that’s when the everything comes crashing down.

All the puzzle pieces fit together, all the dots—everything gets connected, and for a moment it’s so overwhelming that Blake feels as if the had moon shattered again—that Brothers had returned to Remnant to exact judgement upon all of humanity. The spring maiden…Raven Brawnwen. Dead. Blake gives Yang a tight squeeze and runs one hand up and down her back, brows furrowed, her own tears already starting. “We’ll get through this, Yang. We’ll get through this together. I promise you, and I won’t leave your side until we do.”

Neither of them notice the flowers sprouting around them.


End file.
